Corvi et Pecae
by CaketinTheHobo
Summary: CROSSOVER WITH THIEF 2014. Garrett is pulled into the chaos of Dunwall, and given a task to prevent both his and Corvo's worlds from falling around them. "He is called Garrett," the Outsider said. "Why is he important to you?" "He is important to everyone, to everything," was the enigmatic reply.
1. Chapter 1

_"Attention, Citizens of Dunwall. The Old Port District has been added to the evacuation list. The Weeper count for the Month of Seeds has increased. The Lord Regent has decreed that plague ordinances will remain in effect through the Month of Rain. Stay alert, and stay loyal."_

Corvo paused, briefly, to listen to the announcement as it came over the loudspeaker. He'd met the man tasked with announcing news to the city a few times around Dunwall Tower; Malleus was his name. He'd found that he'd missed the regular (if now somewhat desolate) announcements made via the loudspeaker system during his time in Coldridge Prison. They were part of Dunwall, they were constant, dependable, a sign that all was well, albeit on the surface. Corvo, of course, knew better. Nothing was well. His world had been reduced to a space barely bigger than six square feet for six months, and he'd watched the city rot from inside a prison cell. He'd seen it in the guards faces every time they went past his cell – the dirty looks they had thrown in his direction had gotten dirtier by the day. His food had become of lower and lower standard, the torture had gotten worse. They had blamed _him _for the deterioration. They'd not known any better. Burrows had set him up perfectly, the returned Royal Protector turned murderer. He must have improvised, too, what with Corvo's early return from the rest of the Isles.

If Corvo wasn't so busy hating the man for what he'd had to endure, he'd almost admire his ingenuity.

But still, there wasn't any use dwelling on what had happened, the fact was it _had happened. _Ruminating on the whys and what-ifs wasn't going to change the fact. It also wasn't going to help him bypass the Wall of Light that was blocking his access to Clavering Boulevard. Samuel had warned him of the devices, able to disintegrate a man to dust and nothing else. It had been a long time since Corvo had even seen one in use, but then again it had been a long time since Corvo had been to a place such as this one. He'd been travelling for the better part of a year for the Empress, and the places he'd seen on the Isles were too well-secured, or simply too poor, for Walls of Light. He remembered them as a child on Serkonos, watching guards wire them from the window of his room as a boy. They were a contradiction, the Walls of Light; their name defied the perils they held. A simple step and you were no more. Just dust, floating in the same light you'd stepped into. But Corvo had seen there was no light at the end. There was simply _end. _And beginning. Everything and nothing. There was a duality, a sense that everything was equal and yet everything was _not _equal. It simply was. You were a vast object, but so was an ant. Scales of vastness were one and the same.

Corvo had looked into the eyes of the Outsider and seen eternity staring back. But he had also seen _nothing. _

He shook his head for a moment, clearing his thoughts. Samuel had warned him about the area around Clavering Boulevard; what wasn't patrolled by the Watch was instead crawling with gangs, most notably the Bottle Street Gang. He'd also mentioned someone named 'Granny Rags', and something in Samuel's tone had suggested to Corvo that Granny Rags was probably the most dangerous one of them all.

Corvo was in no mood to trifle with Watch Guards, however, so he turned from the Wall of Light and headed into the darker parts of the Distillery District.

The smell got worse as he went deeper, the tang of brine mixed with the stench of the distillery itself. But he continued, heading deeper into the slums of the district.

_This is what the Wall of Light is in place for, _he thought. _Not the criminals or the assassins, but for the poor. The rich of Clavering Boulevard don't want to look upon the dying._

A clatter above his head drew his attention; an old woman throwing out rubbish and muttering to herself. Corvo didn't get much of a glimpse of her but there was _something _that unsettled him. He could hear her muttering continue as she went back into the building.

The building drew his attention. He peered at it for a moment, before resolving to climb to the balcony, if not to investigate, then simply for a better view and to lessen the likelihood of being spotted by an errant guard. A dull thud rang in his ears, almost imperceptible, but enough for Corvo to notice. The Heart was beating. The Heart, whispering to him with the voice of the dead Empress, revealed the runes that were dedicated to the Outsider.

He paused on the balcony, wondering whether to venture into the apartment or continue on his way past the distillery. He was unsure as to whether the woman – most likely this Granny Rags – was a threat or not. In the end he resolved to go inside, the rewards outweighed the risks of his small detour. Campbell wasn't going anywhere tonight anyway; the sun had only just gone down and Corvo had hours to get to Holger Square. The Overseer compound itself was fairly easy to navigate, he'd been there a few times with the Empress and remembered its layout reasonably well, or at least well enough to get in and out.

The Heart thrummed louder in his ear, informing him the rune was nearby, and he ghosted past Granny Rags, giving her a cursory glance as she sorted through what he assumed were her possessions. From what he caught of her monologue, she was annoyed at some 'gentleman callers' disturbing her pet birds or something similar. He could also tell she was blind; he was under no illusion that she hadn't heard him as he made his way past. He opened a door, quietly, and found himself looking upon a shrine built the Outsider. The only time he'd ever seen one of these before had been in the Void, the place which was eternal and instant at the same time. He wondered if the Outsider found the Void lonely, if that was why he reached out to people and looked upon the world. He wondered if these shrines amused him, as much else seemed to.

The rune was sitting in centre place; the Heart's pounding grew louder as he reached for it, and for a moment he stopped, deliberating on whether to pick it up. He did so, the weight of the rune surprising him for a moment, before the mark on its side glowed.

"Be careful, Corvo."

The Outsider was _here, _hovering in the space above the shrine, surrounded by a black swirling mist. He gazed down upon the man, his black-eyed features inscrutable as ever.

"They call her Granny Rags," the Outsider continued, confirming Corvo's earlier suspicion. "You wouldn't recognise her real name, or even the name of her family, but an Emperor begged for her hand once, and rich young men fought each other for her favour. I watched her consider them all, measure their worth, and find them wanting. Then she made a different choice."

The Outsider paused for a moment, almost as if he were choosing his next words with care.

"You're on your way to face the High Overseer, the leader of a great cult dedicated to loathing me. More than me," he said, "they loathe what they fear, and while they may not fear _me _they loathe what was brought here through me."

Corvo raised an eyebrow as the Outsider unfolded his arms, raising his right hand.

"I have a task for you," he said. "Normally I would not be so brash, but time is of the essence, for you and for the man I brought to this world."

He waved his hand, and the room around Corvo flickered, changing. Corvo recognised the vast emptiness and stillness of the Void, yet it was all in image. He could still feel himself standing on the floor, partially rubble, and he could still hear Granny Rags moving above him.

In front of him stood a man. Or, more accurately, the man was running in front of him, but he was slowed, moving slowly enough for Corvo to gauge his appearance. He was dressed in dark leather, fingerless gloves, with a hood and a cloak. Most of his features were masked, but Corvo did see a scar cutting across his right side of his face, and interestingly, his eyes were of a different colour. He ran holding onto a bow, slowly reaching behind him to pull an arrow out of a quiver and fire at an unseen assailant.

"He is called Garrett, and he was born a long way from this realm," the Outsider spoke. "He is here to set an issue right in which nobody in this world can. He will need your help, and you will need his. But in drawing him to this world, I miscalculated, and he now resides in the dungeons of the Overseers. Loathe me as they do, they know enough that I cannot see him, and I cannot draw him back into the Void. I must, instead, ask you to retrieve him for me."

Corvo stepped closer to the moving image of Garrett – for that was all it was, an image – and watched the man's movements. He was agile, thin but well built, and clearly fast.

"Why is he important to you?" Corvo asked, speaking for the first time.

"He is important to everyone, to _everything," _was the enigmatic reply. "I shall explain to you both the nature of the situation you are placed in once you are safe and I can draw you to the Void. For now-" the Outsider broke off, and the image of the Void, and the man named Garrett, faded – "you must continue with the task you were given. Deal with Campbell as you will, and then find Garrett. Convince him to trust you. He will be unwilling at first, if what I have seen of him proves true, but like you, he will find that he has a pivotal role in the days to come."

Corvo recognised the final words; the same had been spoken to him the previous night, in the Void.

"Find Garrett, and know that I will be watching," the Outsider dictated, before disappearing, an inky black vortex being the final thing Corvo saw.

Corvo wondered if that was the Outsider's way of saying good luck. He didn't seem to be the type of person to say such a thing out loud.

Garrett, whoever he was, was clearly important. Perhaps more so than Corvo, by the way the Outsider insisted on finding him. Unlike anything else given to him by the Outsider, with this man Garrett, he was removed of choice. This was something he _had _to do.

And in all the time Corvo had been to Holger Square, not once had he seen any cells or detention area in the Overseer Compound.

He muttered a curse to himself, before turning and heading past Granny Rags and out onto the street. On top of finding and getting rid of Campbell, Havelock had also tasked him with finding an Overseer named Martin; Corvo assumed that once Campbell had been taken care of this Martin would take his place and put the Loyalists in power within the Abbey. He hoped Martin was easier to find than Garrett.

Bypassing the first Wall of Light was fairly simple; the only trouble Corvo encountered were two members of the Bottle Street Gang hassling a pedlar inside a fishmongers. He quickly dispatched the two with swift blows to the back of the head, knocking each of them out. The man had introduced himself as Griff, thanking Corvo and offering him a discount on his wares.

_He knows who you are, _the Heart had whispered, _but he will pretend he does not._

Corvo had left Griff behind, instead traversing the rooftops to reach Holger Square. The Outsider had provided him with the gifts needed to travel unseen by the guards; he didn't want to cause conflict with men simply doing their jobs. As such, he moved swiftly and silently skirting guard patrols and reaching Holger Square.

Almost immediately he was alerted by the sound of someone speaking – an Overseer talking to a man chained in the middle of the courtyard.

"Hello Martin," he began, immediately causing Corvo a wave of relief in that he didn't have to spend his entire night looking for the man, "I hear the second day is when the skin _really _starts to come off. Is that true? Or is it the itching that really gets you? Or the rats?"

He didn't get a chance to gloat further, as Corvo crept up behind him and rendered him unconscious, choking him and then dragging him to the shadows. He'd wake up in a few hours, when both Corvo and Martin – and Garrett, if Corvo could find him – would be long gone.

Freeing Martin was simply an action of releasing the lever that controlled the shackles that held him. He was grateful to the man for breaking him out of Coldridge, but in seeing Martin he found him to be slightly disquieting. No wonder he'd been caught, if Corvo had been in his previous office he probably would have suspected the man himself.

"Feels good to stand up straight. Thank you, Corvo," the man said, rubbing his wrists and stretching. "What you're here to do tonight," he continued, "is of the highest importance. We've got to find Emily, so kill Campbell and make it quick. Once it's done, search his body for the journal – his notorious black book – and get out of there.

"Campbell is meeting with a guard named Curnow, and word from my informant is that that Campbell is going to poison him. Maybe you can use that to your advantage."

Corvo recognised the name. Callista had said something of the sort to him before he'd left the Hound Pits. Curnow was a good man; he'd travelled with Corvo across the Isles on the Empress' orders. Corvo found it hard to believe that he was involved in any conspiracy, and the fact he was going to be poisoned reinforced the idea that Curnow was simply trying to survive the tumultuous time.

"Curnow was also the man who found the Sleeper," Martin added, causing Corvo to frown behind his mask. "I suspect Campbell will also attempt to dispose of _him _tonight, whoever he is."

Martin seemed to register Corvo's confusion, for he elaborated. "A week ago, a man appeared in this square. Fell from the sky, straight at Curnow's feet. At least, that's what my informant tells me Curnow says. He hasn't woken at all; they're keeping him in the old interrogation room until he does – Coldridge is having an issue with security, after all, and we couldn't rule out Outsider interference. Most likely Campbell would legitimise his murder of Curnow by saying that he and the Sleeper plotted to kill him. Especially now, after your escape."

After imparting his information, Martin bade Corvo farewell, informing him that he'd notify Samuel to move the boat to the back of the Overseer's office. Corvo simply nodded, mind turning over the information Martin had given him. This Sleeper was clearly an anomaly, so much so that Corvo was in little doubt that this was who the Outsider had sent him to find.

Now there was simply the matter of getting Garrett and getting him out, something which would be difficult if the man had not woken up for a week. He figured he would deal with Campbell first, now that he knew Curnow was in imminent danger, and he didn't want to loiter at the entrance to the compound.

Crossing over the gate was a simple task, and soon he was crouched on a ledge on the side of the High Overseer's office, watching the guards patrol below. They were speaking of something called the 'Heretic's Brand', and as far as Corvo could tell, it was a way to expel an Overseer of _any _rank from his office, and even from the city itself. Creeping across the ledge, Corvo considered using this method to get rid of Campbell.

Corvo could kill a man if needed, but he also saw that there were other means of disposing of enemies. The Empress had been a champion of justice and compassion. Corvo was acting in _her _honour; it made sense to acknowledge her commitment. Could he allow himself the grim satisfaction of seeing a man cast out, like he was?

He decided he could as he reached a window that was open, putting him in a corridor in the High Overseer's office.

He ducked into the nearest room, avoiding the two guards talking at the end of the corridor, and found that, by luck, he was exactly where he needed to be. The Interrogation Room was split into three sections – a cage in the middle, with a chair; a viewing area with doors connecting to the outer corridor; and a raised platform. Corvo spotted the brand in question lying on a desk on the platform. So it was real, he mused, quickly skimming over a book that lay on the desk next to it.

He also saw that, considering the Office of the High Overseer did not have its own cell block, that the Sleeper had been strapped to the chair in the middle of the room.

For most of the evening a small part of him hadn't believed the Outsider's words, saying that he would find a man named Garrett in the middle of the Overseer compound. He'd been even less inclined to believe Martin's tale about the Sleeper. Yet, here he was, exactly as stated.

_He was looking for Erin, _the Heart whispered, briefly startling him. _For six months he has searched. He thought he had found her when the Outsider brought him through the Void._

Corvo knew that he needed to get Garrett out, but he also needed to deal with Campbell and Curnow. He would have to come back to this room anyway to administer the brand, so he resolved to leave the man here for now, in case any wandering guard decided to check on 'the Sleeper'.

He quickly traversed through the corridors, using the series of pipes and lights hanging from the ceiling, as well as the gifts the Outsider gave to him. He soon came upon the Meeting Chamber, whereupon he spotted a bottle of wine (a fine Tyvian red, to be exact), and a tray with two already filled glasses. Presumably, one was poisoned.

He didn't have much time – he could hear Campbell and Curnow approaching the room now, talking about Callista. It appeared that in order to work with Havelock and Pendleton, she'd had to disappear. Pressed for time, Corvo simply spilled the wine, ensuring that Curnow was safe, at least from this method of assassination.

He barely had enough time to hide before Campbell and Curnow were at the door, but he managed it, blinking to the shadows in the top corner of the room. It surprised him how little people looked up; he'd discovered as much this night alone. Corvo resolved that if he ever got back to some position of respect he would instruct the guards to check ceilings more often.

Piero had supplied him with sleep darts; he quickly used them on both Curnow and Campbell. He couldn't risk Curnow alerting the entire Watch that he was here to deal with Campbell, and he simply didn't have the time to explain to the man his purpose, and what Campbell had planned to do.

The only issue he had now was _what to do _with Curnow. He couldn't leave him here, he would soon be found and if any of the Overseers were in on Campbell's plan then Curnow would be killed anyway.

He quickly placed the unconscious Campbell out on the window ledge, out of sight of anybody who happened to enter the room. Piero had informed him the darts rendered complete unconsciousness, without movement, so there was little chance of Campbell falling off the ledge. If he did, it would kill him. A pity, considering the fate Corvo had in store for him.

He hoisted the unconscious Curnow over his shoulder, using the gifts the Outsider gave him to traverse to the edge of the compound. A trash bin, while not exactly the most luxurious of places, would have to be Curnow's safe haven. He hoped the man would understand.

He was pressed for time; he quickly made his way back to Campbell, carrying the man along the outside of the building to the window opposite the door to the interrogation room, in doing so avoiding the guards patrolling the corridors. He darted into the room, closing the door behind him for good measure.

He unceremoniously dropped Campbell to the floor, moving forward to undo the restraints on the chair.

Before he had even begun to undo the strap around Garrett's right wrist, he stopped. The brand on his left hand had started to glow. Usually it only did so when he used the powers granted to him, but here he'd only _touched _Garrett. He guessed it was some influence of the Outsider; he wasn't naive enough to think that the Outsider _didn't _have some connection to him through the brand.

More so, the connection had apparently enabled Garrett to start to wake up.

_Of course, _Corvo thought. _At least I don't have to carry him out._

Corvo couldn't risk him alerting the guards to his presence, so he did the only thing he could – he drew his sword and pressed his hand over the man's mouth, preventing him from making a noise.

Naturally, the man didn't seem to be pleased about his situation, as he shifted in his bonds, eyes narrowing at Corvo. He _did _keep quiet though, even as Corvo pressed the edge of his blade to the man's throat to reaffirm his point. He lifted his hand, quickly lifting his mask to reveal his face; hopefully it would make his intentions seem more genuine.

"I do not have time to explain," he said, quickly and quietly. "I was sent to get you out. I do not have time for your questions _or _for you to pull anything that will jeopardise my mission. The one who brought you here cannot reach you, he will explain _later. _Trust me, Garrett," he said, which got the man's attention, "I do not know why you are here anymore than you do."

He replaced his mask, and set about freeing the restraints that were still around Garrett's wrists. The man hadn't spoken, but he watched Corvo carefully. When he was released, he stood up, slowly, stretching his limbs and rotating his wrists. He still hadn't said anything, but he did pay attention when Corvo lifted up Campbell's limp form.

"No questions," he said, forestalling any query that might be directed his way.

Garrett seemed to consider asking him anyway, but when he did finally speak, his question was much simpler.

"Where are my things?"

His voice was quiet, measured, and rasped slightly, Corvo assumed from disuse. He didn't seem to be suffering from any other effects of his week-long rest. Corvo wasn't even sure if the man knew he'd been in that chair for so long. For a moment he didn't register what the man meant, until he noticed that the quiver and bow the Outsider had shown him carrying were missing. He cast a glance around the room.

"Try the cupboard," he ventured, working on Campbell's restraints and pocketing the black book that Havelock and Martin had urged him to get.

The creak of the cupboard door startled them both, and Garrett winced as he slowly pulled the door open. It wasn't for nothing, however, he pulled out his bow and quiver, along with some other items that Corvo didn't recognise, but assumed they belonged to the man. He _was _intrigued by the device that fitted into a holster on Garrett's right thigh – it was connected to a rope that stretched across his stomach and wound by his left hip. He noticed that Garrett didn't seem to carry any form of lethal weapon beside his bow.

By the time Corvo had finished tying down Campbell, Garrett appeared to have found all of his equipment, for he closed the cupboard door quietly, making sure not to replicate the noise he'd made opening it.

"I think they're going to notice he's not me," Garrett said, crossing to stand by the door, nodding to Campbell's unconscious form.

Corvo smirked at the man's attempt at wit, before reaching for the Heretic's Brand. "Actually, you were in the way," he said, taking hold of Campbell's jaw and firmly pressing the brand to his face.

For his part, Garrett didn't comment, he simply watched as Campbell was roused from unconsciousness for a second as the chemicals on the brand reacted to his skin. After a few more seconds than was entirely necessary, Corvo removed it, eyeing the three lines that now cut across Campbell's eye.

Garrett looked as though he were about to say something further, but at that moment the door opened.

For a moment, nothing was said; the Overseer who entered simply looked between the masked Corvo looming over the unconscious Campbell, still holding the brand.

He managed to cry out for a split second before something impacted on the back of his head, knocking him out. Garrett caught the man as he fell, dragging him over to the cupboard where his weaponry had been stored and pushing his limp form inside.

"He'll be knocked out for an hour at least," he said, stowing the weapon he'd used – a blackjack by the look of it – back into a sling that lay above the rope on his waist.

He turned to Corvo, "I assume he wasn't your friend?" he asked.

"No," Corvo confirmed. "But we need to leave. We don't know if anyone else heard him. Can you climb?" he asked.

Garrett snuffed a quiet laugh. "Climbing is part of my occupation," he answered, pulling a scarf over his face, covering his features.

"Good, because we're going that way," Corvo said, pointing to the mass of pipes near the ceiling. "I assume I don't need to tell you that stealth is key here."

"Before we go," Garrett said, "I want to make something clear. Just because I'm following you, it does not mean I trust you. I'm following you because I am clearly not where I was before I woke in this chair, and your friend – this person who you say will explain everything – had something to do with it. He better explain it soon, is all I'm saying."

Corvo paused. "What do you remember?" he asked, curious.

"A headache," Garrett answered. He didn't elaborate, and Corvo knew they were too pressed for time for an explanation.

Corvo quickly manoeuvred up to the pipes – he wasn't keen on showing Garrett his powers as of now, and Garrett followed.

Moving along the pipes, Corvo admired the way the man moved, it was like he'd been born with the grace of a cat. He was silent – quieter than Corvo, anyway – and each step was carefully placed. He was more experienced with such a method of travel, it seemed.

Corvo lead the way; they traversed along the pipes at the top of the room and corridor outside, before reaching the meeting chamber. Corvo didn't fail to notice that the Overseers were on the alert – they must have noticed that Campbell and Curnow were missing. He wondered how long it would take them to find Campbell. He didn't reckon it would be long.

"We need to get out there," he whispered, indicating the open window. "Stay on the ledge and follow it right, all the way round the building."

Garrett nodded, carefully watching the Overseer patrolling the room, edging along the pipes to the one nearest the window. Corvo had the impression that if Garrett wanted to, he could wait for the entire night for the right moment. As it were, he didn't need to, the man left the room, giving them both time to drop to the floor and exit through the window.

The ledge was narrow, but not difficult to traverse – Corvo had found it harder when carrying Curnow's unconscious form along it to the trash bin. Corvo spotted the door they needed to go through, indicating it to Garrett. There were only two Overseers here, and they were otherwise distracted, talking about some incident of the previous night; they were easily skirted. Thankfully, the door to the back yard was unlocked, and they quickly exited through it, Garrett softly closing the door behind them. He hadn't said a word since leaving the interrogation room, although neither had Corvo, aside from the instructions he'd given in the meeting room. He supposed that the man didn't have much to say.

He was drawn from his thoughts by raised voices in the alley near them – creeping to a near stone wall; both he and Corvo looked over to see an unmasked Overseer arguing with two of his comrades about a woman.

"Please, she's my sister. She's not a witch! I know her!"

Behind his mask, Corvo made a face. He'd never liked the over-zealous methods of the Overseers, and now in his newly enlightened state surrounding the Outsider, he disliked them all the more. He took another glance over the ledge – the two factions were on the verge of coming to blows.

"You want to help them," Garrett muttered, almost resignedly. "I'll take the one on the right," he added, moving into position.

At a signal from Corvo, they moved together, vaulting the stone wall and landing on the two Overseers, knocking them out.

The man and his female companion both seemed shocked by the pair's appearance, so much so that the former Overseer had even drawn his sword in alarm. Both, however, soon shared a relieved gasp as Garrett began to drag his unconscious Overseer to a nearby bin.

"You appeared as if from nowhere," the man said. "We would both be dead if not for you."

Corvo said nothing, but that appeared to not matter, as the woman – the former Overseer's sister, Corvo assumed – spoke.

"We are forever in your debt, I cannot thank you enough."

"I must get my sister to safety, but first I may know of a way to thank you," the man added. "There's a safe in the bunkhouse. The combination is 203. Take what you want, and good luck, both of you."

The pair quickly left, and Corvo quickly pulled the other unconscious Overseer to the bin Garrett had chosen.

"A safe, huh?" he mused. "Wonder if it's got anything valuable."

"We don't have time for detours," Corvo told him. "As soon as they discover Campbell this place is going to be on high alert. It was hard enough getting in here on lax security, let alone getting out."

"That's your problem," Garrett answered. "If we pass a bunkhouse on our way out of here, I'm taking a look, high alert or not."

Corvo was about to respond when he remembered what the Outsider had asked of him: _"Convince him to trust you."_

Corvo knew they were pressed for time, but he also knew they would most definitely pass a bunkhouse on their way to Samuel. He sighed, making a decision.

"Fine, but we're moving quickly. If you can't get to the safe without raising an alarm, we're not opening it. Understand?" he asked, receiving a nod of acknowledgement in return. "Good."

"Our best way would be up there," Garrett said, pointing to the series of ventilation ducts that lay pressed against the wall above them. He reached into the holster on his hip, removing the device that had caught Corvo's eye before.

"It's called the Claw," the man explained, loosening some rope into his hand. "It's useful for getting to high places."

He threw the device with accuracy, looping it around the bracket that held the duct to the wall, before pulling the rope taught.

"After you," he gestured, and Corvo quickly climbed, Garrett following after him and retracting the rope behind him. The traversed along the vents quickly, crossing the courtyard where a single Overseer was patrolling.

Following the rooftops from here was fairly easy, and the pair moved with Corvo in the lead.

They halted at the bunkhouse, standing on the roof of the adjacent building and peering through the window. There were three Overseers inside, in somewhat deep discussion. After listening for a few seconds, Corvo realised what the man was asking of his friends.

"Plague," he said quietly to Garrett. "He's infected."

"Seems like everywhere's got some sort of sickness," Garrett replied, watching carefully through the window.

Despite his dislike for the Overseers, Corvo couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man; and his executioner.

"Over there," Garrett whispered, pointing to the safe. "You stay here and keep watch. I'll be two minutes at the most."

Corvo didn't get a chance to say otherwise, as Garrett turned and made his way into the building, silently treading along the vents and pipes. Watching him, Corvo suspected that Garrett was the sort of man who did this for a living. A professional infiltrator, a thief, perhaps an assassin, although the lack of lethal weaponry somewhat negated the third option.

If he was any of these, it begged the question, _why did the Outsider want him so much? _

By the time Corvo returned his attention to him, Garrett was already at the safe, turning the dials with speed. Creaking, the heavy door opened, and Garrett quickly emptied it.

"Hey, you there! Stop what you're doing!"

Corvo cursed – he'd been too busy paying attention to Garrett, and not on the door, where one of the Overseers had entered on his patrol. His position also made it nigh-on impossible to reach the Overseer before he reached Garrett, so he did the only thing he knew he could – he blinked to Garrett's side, grabbed his arm, and moved them back to the rooftop.

Corvo wasn't sure who was more surprised, Garrett or the Overseer. At least Garrett had the inclination to not shout his surprise, unlike the Overseer.

"Later," Corvo told him. "We're leaving, now."

They quickly traversed across the rooftop, before leaping over a wall and coming to a long chain that lead down to the riverside.

"Go," Corvo said, hearing the shouts of the Overseers get louder behind the wall. Soon the place would be swarming. Garrett did as told, and they both slid down the long chain, coming to stand on the dockside.

Garrett peered up at the chain rising above them, listening to the now faraway shouts of the Overseers, as Corvo crossed the dock to where Samuel was watching them both, eyeing the unfamiliar man warily.

"Who's your friend?" Samuel asked.

"This is Garrett," Corvo told him. "Garrett, Samuel."

"He the guy who brought me here?" Garrett asked.

"No," Corvo replied. "He pilotss the boat."

"I'm sure it's a pleasure to meet you," Samuel began, "but do you think the others are going to take you bringing a stranger into our fold so lightly? I've half a mind to shoot him now and save Havelock from doing it later."

"That's a bold threat," Garrett countered. "He'd have to catch me first."

"They're just going to have to trust me," Corvo told him. Garrett, for his part, laughed quietly.

"_Another _person who's going to accept your word?" he asked. "You've given _me _little reason to trust yours. You can keep telling me that the reason I'm here will be explained later, but if they don't do so soon then you're providing me with little reason to stay, let alone trust you."

For a short while nothing was said, before Corvo broke the silence.

"The Overseers will be down here any minute; we can talk more in the boat," he said. "Garrett, trust me, please. I _told _you I don't know any more than you do. I was told to get you out. Would you rather I left you there?"

He turned to Samuel. "Let's go, before the Overseers work out how we're going to leave."

"All right," Samuel said. "Garrett, if you do anything untoward, I'm pitching you overboard into the river."

Garrett, for his part, eyed the boat with distaste. "I'm sure it won't come to that," he said, carefully stepping in and sitting down. For the limited amount of time that Corvo had known him, this was the first time he'd seen Garrett look anything close to nervous, and this was a man who was willing to walk into unfamiliar territory for the sake of a safe.

"You don't like boats?" Samuel asked as Corvo took his place.

"I prefer to travel my own way," Garrett countered. "Boats are... not my usual method."

_He almost drowned in the river as a child, _the Heart said. _He exists in a world where everything is controlled and precise. A boat is neither of these things._

"Well, I hate to break it to you," Samuel told him, "but in Dunwall, the only way to travel with speed is by boat."

"Dunwall," Garrett repeated, as Samuel started the boat's engine and moved them away from the dockside. "That's the name of this city?"

Corvo nodded, removing his mask as they left the outer reaches of the Overseer's compound.

"What about you?" Garrett asked, following Corvo's example and pulling his scarf down. "You know my name, but you never told me yours."

"Corvo," he said, holding out his hand. Garrett took it, grasping his hand in a firm grip.

"Well, Corvo, I hope your friend can explain what's going on better than you can, otherwise I'm going to _really _start to wonder what mess I've gotten into now."

_**A/N: So this is my first fic in a long while. I was hesitant about posting this one but I was persuaded by many a friend, so here we are! This fic can also be found on my new AO3 account, if you're wishing to read it there instead. I'll link my AO3 on my profile. Perhaps I should have said that at the start of this chapter heh. But yes, I hope you enjoy this! There is a lot more to come, of course. If you hadn't guessed, this fic is essentially the Dishonored game with bonus Garrett. This has been in my head ever since I played Thief!  
But yes. Enjoy! Reviews etc are appreciated as always.**_


	2. Chapter 2

They left the distillery district behind them, the strong smell of peat inherently linked to the whiskey fading as they got further onto the river. Out here the smell of the river was overpowering, brine and rust and mud all mixed together. Corvo knew the smell well, during the Month of Clans his cell had flooded and he'd been ankle deep in water for four whole weeks. The sun was starting to rise, streaking the sky with red and purple, while also enhancing the river's deep brown hue. Apparently the sun only felt the need to make _one _thing better looking.

"So," Garrett began, breaking the silence, "what kind of man breaks into a high-security compound, brands a man's face, all for a coded notebook?"

Corvo looked up, finding Garrett poring through the notebook he'd taken from Campbell. He'd not noticed the man taking it from his pocket, reinforcing his suspicion that this Garrett was a professional thief of some sort. Garrett must have taken the book from him when he'd gotten into the boat.

"You branded him?" Samuel asked Corvo, forestalling any response.

"The Heretic's Brand," Corvo told him. "He is to be cast out by the Abbey. He is as good as dead."

"What made you not kill him?"

"Honour," was the reply. "The empress championed justice, most of all, fair justice. I wasn't going to be hisexecutioner if I could find another means to dispose of him."

"Do you think the admiral will take comfort in that?"

Corvo suppressed a laugh. "He's going to have to. Havelock talks big but he hasn't got the balls to do the job, it's why they broke me out of Coldridge. What he doesn't realise is that simply because I'm _doing _the job, it doesn't mean I have to do it _his _way. I'm doing it for her, and her daughter."

"How does this fit in?" Garrett asked, holding up the notebook. "Why were you sent to kill a man to begin with? This Havelock isn't the man who sent you to get me, you said as much before. Who did?"

Corvo sighed inwardly, wondering how to phrase his answer.

"Someone called the Outsider sent me to you," he eventually said. He caught the look Samuel gave him, fear and wonder in the same expression. "He said you were important, but he'd miscalculated in bringing you here. The Abbey has protection against his magic, so he needed me to get in there."

"The Outsider," Garrett repeated. "Well, I'm not impressed so far."

"You should be," Samuel told him. "He's a god, or a demon, or both. Not many people get to look on the face of the Outsider. He's heresy to some, to others he's salvation."

"He's neither," Corvo said. "He just watches and waits. You're important if he feels the need to interfere."

"Lucky me," Garrett muttered.

"Have you thought of what you're going to tell the admiral?"

"A little," Corvo said. "Now that Martin's with them the truth isn't looking very good, _he'd_ probably want me locked up in Coldridge again. Pendleton would most likely eat his own arm than admit the Outsider exists, and Havelock would probably want to shoot me if I told him the Outsider was watching, let alone interfering. I was going to tell them that Garrett is a friend from Serkonos. None of them can refute that."

Corvo turned to Garrett. "Think you can play along?"

"I'll be fine," Garrett said. "Except you haven't said explained why you branded that man."

"You really know nothing of the troubles this city has faced, do you?" Samuel asked.

"Where I'm from has its own troubles," Garrett said. He sighed, passing a hand over his face. "I guess I'll need to know yours," he said, passing back the notebook, almost resigned all of a sudden. "What's broken this city enough to break a man out of prison and let some type of god bring me here?"

For his part, Garrett's expression was mostly unreadable during Corvo's narration of the last six months, describing the events involving the Empress' death and Emily's disappearance. Samuel said nothing, aside from adding in a detail from what was happening outside of Coldridge prison during Corvo's incarceration. He did raise an eyebrow when Corvo reached the part about his escape.

"I just find it strange that they waited until the day before your execution to get you out," was all he'd said upon Corvo querying his change of expression.

Garrett fell silent again as Corvo narrated the events up to the present, including his visit from the Outsider, up until his discovery of Garrett in the Overseer's interrogation room.

"I'm not the sort of person who would be inclined to help you in political matters like this," Garrett said finally. "This Outsider of yours, if he's as powerful as you say, is going to have to have a good reason for doing what he's done. Not just because he wants to watch me dance."

"What do _you _remember about getting here?" Corvo asked him.

Garrett shrugged, before looking at his hands, adjusting one of his leather gloves. "I was on a job, an artist's in Dayport. I got a headache – at first I wondered if it was the place I was in, it _stank, _like pitch and oil paints. I didn't want to linger long, so I got out fast with what I came for. Last thing I remember, I'd made it to the roof when the headache got so bad I passed out. I thought I saw-" He broke off suddenly, looking into the river.

"Saw what?" Corvo asked.

"Nothing," Garrett replied, too quickly for Corvo's liking, but he continued: "Next thing I know you've got a sword to my throat and I'm not in _my _city, and I don't even have the painting I went there for."

"You're a thief," Samuel said, clearly not impressed.

"I am?" Garrett asked, a feigned surprise in his tone. "Someone should alert the Watch."

"Careful, boy, or I really will put you in the river."

"He's got a point," Corvo said, interrupting them. "Why would you be brought here to help me with something that a person like you would most likely exploit?" he asked. "You are only a thief after all."

"I'm a thief with a fifty-thousand coin bounty on his head," Garrett said, "I'm good at my job."

"Whatever you are and whatever your reason for being here," Samuel told him, "I'd advise you not to tell the people we're about to meet of your job. Most of them are people you would probably love to rob."

"We'll see," Garrett said, turning to watch as Samuel pulled the boat up to the Hound Pits pub.

"Let me do the talking," Corvo said, Garrett nodding his assent.

"Admiral Havelock and Lord Pendleton are in the courtyard," Samuel said. "I expect they'll want to congratulate you."

As they approached the dock, Corvo spotted Callista sitting on a crate, watching their return. Her expression showed she was curious about the strange man Corvo and Samuel had brought back, but she didn't comment on it, instead addressing Corvo when he disembarked the vessel.

"He's alive! Thank you, Corvo, thank you. My uncle's a good man, and one day he'll prove it," she said to him.

"I already know it Callista," he told her, smiling softly.

"In any case, I want you to have this as a reward. I know you did what you did for the right reasons. It's an old heirloom one of my aunts gave me."

Callista pressed the object into Corvo's hands before he could say anymore, and with a parting glance to Garrett (who looked _very _relieved to be standing on solid ground), she made her way back to the main building.

When she was out of earshot, Garrett peered at the item. "Worth about a hundred gold where I'm from," he commented. "Not a bad reward."

"I didn't do it for the reward," Corvo said, passing it to the shorter man. "I never asked, what did you get out of that safe in the end?"

"Crossbow bolts and some coin," Garrett said, stowing the item away. "I think you could use the bolts more than me."

Corvo inspected the ammunition, finding that they were actually sleep darts. He wondered where the Overseers had gotten them, considering none of them were very adept at the weapons.

"Let's see what Havelock and Pendleton say before we see who's in need of weapons more," he said. Garrett's mouth twitched into a smirk at the comment.

Corvo led the way up the steps, noting that Garrett's expression turned to a frown as he saw the graffiti left by someone most likely long dead: _The Outsider walks among us. _The graffiti had become a lot more extensive while Corvo had been imprisoned, the people turning to what they believed to be their only salvation in these harsh times. If only they knew that the divinity they prayed to had little care for which way the scales tipped.

Pendleton and Havelock were ahead of them, the latter using his pistol for target practice. Corvo noted the man had remarkably good accuracy.

"You couldn't have picked a _better _time to introduce me?" Garrett muttered, eyeing the weapons warily. Corvo noticed that he wasn't actually carrying a firearm; his most lethal weapon was probably the bow and quiver of arrows. He was also aware that Garrett was not comfortable in the sunlight; he hugged the base of the wall where the shadows were. He guessed for a profession such as Garrett's – if it could be called that – was one where darkness was optimal.

For a moment, Havelock appeared not to notice the small, lithe man next to Corvo, for he spoke: "You did it! Somehow you took down High Overseer Campbell against the odds. I knew you were our man, Corvo-"

He was cut off by Pendleton clearing his throat and nodding to Corvo's companion.

"Don't stop on my account," Garrett said.

"Corvo, would you mind explaining yourself?" Havelock asked. To give the man credit, his tone was wary but not outright cold, Havelock knew Corvo would have to have a pretty good reason for bringing someone else to their hideout.

"This is Garrett," he told them. "He's a friend from Serkonos. He can help."

"Need I remind you of the delicate situation we are in? What makes you so sure that you can trust this man? That we can trust him? And just _how_ exactly is it you can help?" Havelock asked Garrett, looking the strangely garbed man up and down. Corvo – and most likely Garrett also – spotted the derision with which the question was voiced.

"Not in a way that either of you would approve," Garrett answered.

Havelock didn't seem to have an answer to that for a second. The indifference Garrett had towards the man had disarmed him. Corvo had to hide his smirk.

"Corvo," Havelock appeared as though he believed he would fare better addressing him, "I cannot take you on word alone. What we're doing here is of utmost importance, but more than that, _secrecy. _Your 'friend' will need to be detained and questioned before I can allow him to do anything. You and Samuel will also have to answer questions to ensure his credibility."

"If you think I'm going anywhere with you then we're going to have a problem," Garrett said, stepping back half a pace.

"Is my word not enough?" Corvo asked, keenly aware that the situation needed to be defused or Garrett would most likely get killed or disappear entirely, into an unfamiliar city. Corvo suspected the Outsider would not be pleased for either outcome.

"If this were any other situation it would be," Havelock answered. "As it stands now I think it would be better to be safe than to discover he's an agent of the Lord Regent."

"This plan of yours really isn't working out, is it?" Garrett said to Corvo. Corvo saw the man's eyes were darting left and right, most likely working out possible escape routes.

"The man has a point Garrett, he knows nothing about you. I can't expect him to trust you any more than you trust him."

"That's your problem," Garrett countered. "You've still given _me_ little reason to trust _you_."

"Even though you're friends?" Pendleton asked, speaking up for the first time.

"So you _do_ talk," Garrett said. "I thought you were his bodyguard for a moment, but you look like you'd fall over your own shoes if they were in your way."

"You're not making your situation any better," Corvo said. "I can't order you to comply but need I remind you of _how _you're here and the circumstance you're in?" he asked, hoping Garrett would see sense soon enough and swallow his pride, or whatever it was.

Garrett, Corvo had realised, was a man who did not like taking orders. He didn't appear to be a person who would successfully cultivate friends either, but at the moment Corvo was probably the only friend he'd have if he kept insulting Havelock and Pendleton.

Garrett, for a moment, looked undecided. He wavered between movement and stillness, eyes flicking between the three men stood before him. It appeared as if an impasse had been reached.

Or it did, until Havelock drew his pistol and pointed it at Garrett.

"I would be very careful with what you try to do next," Garrett told the man. Corvo could see that if it came down to a fight Garrett would most likely lose, but there was something in his threat that gave Havelock pause.

"Admiral," Corvo appealed. "It's my understanding that you broke me out of Coldridge because you needed me to do the work that you can't. What will you do when that help is no longer offered?"

It was a bold move, Corvo knew that without Havelock and the other Loyalists he would most likely be dead by now, and he still needed their help in finding Emily, but according to the Outsider Garrett was _far more_ important. Corvo wasn't even sure if he understood himself why he was taking such a risk.

"Your friend is this important?" Havelock asked. "You would jeopardise the entire city for _him?" _

"I'm not the one putting him in jeopardy," Corvo countered.

There was a beat, a pause in which neither party moved, before Havelock moved his pistol and fired, hitting the bottles that he'd been practising on earlier.

"That is a warning. If you do anything that I don't like, I'll kill you myself," he said.

"Save your threats for later," Garrett said. "I'm not interested to know what you _might _do."

"We have more important business," Corvo said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out Campbell's notebook. He passed it to Havelock.

"The journal, let's not forget that," he said, almost as relieved for the change of subject as everyone else. "Our hope is that, within these encoded pages, the location and condition of Emily Kaldwin can be discovered. Our entire movement will mean nothing if we can't place the rightful heir on the throne. We must act fast. No doubt the Lord Regent is holding Emily somewhere, waiting to reveal her, to step out as the hero and further cement his regency."

"If he doesn't bring the young lady forth soon, there'll be in-fighting among the nobles as to who should succeed the Empress," Pendleton added.

"Time is against us. But, you should rest, Corvo," Havelock said. "You and your... friend," he added, with another look to Garrett, who returned it with a cold, unfathomable stare. "We will decipher the contents of the High Overseer's journal and share them with you later."

Garrett followed Corvo after he bade Havelock and Pendleton farewell, back towards the main building of the Hound Pits.

"That could have gone better," he said to Corvo, who nodded his agreement.

"We still need to get you past Martin, later," he said. "And Martin most likely_ knows _you aren't from Serkonos."

"Your Outsider should take this as a cue to hurry up with his explanation then," Garrett said, as they passed into the darker interior of the pub. Almost immediately Garrett looked happier to be out of the sun.

"I work nights," he said, upon catching Corvo's look.

"This way," Corvo said, heading towards the stairs that led to his room. He suspected Havelock wouldn't appreciate Garrett anywhere else.

Before he could make any distance, however, his attention was drawn by a cry of pain. Turning back, he found Garrett leaning against the wall, his hand pressed to his head. It didn't escape Corvo's notice that he was holding the right side of his head, the one with the strangely-coloured eye.

"Garrett?" he questioned, stepping towards the man.

Garrett's head snapped up, and Corvo caught a flash of expression – confusion and pain – before the unreadable mask was up again and Garrett stood up straight, one hand still on the side of his head.

"I'm fine," he said. "I-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, with a cry of pain he clutched the side of his head again, this time falling to the floor.

For a moment, Corvo was stock-still with shock. He peered down at the now limp form of Garrett, for a moment wondering if it was simply a ploy by the man. Closer inspection proved otherwise, Garrett was out cold. His pulse was steady and the man was breathing, but other than that Corvo had nothing to identify what had caused him to black out other than the pain he'd apparently experienced.

_I hope Piero can remember his medical training, _he thought, crouching and easily lifting the unconscious man.

He drew the attention of almost everybody at the Hound Pits carrying Garrett to the workshop, he even spotted Havelock pausing in his target practise to turn and look at them.

Piero, for his part, made no comment when Corvo laid him down on the workbench.

"He collapsed," he told the man by way of explanation. "You're the only person here with medical knowledge, as far as I know."

"Strange outfit," was all Piero said, moving Garrett's scarf aside to properly take a pulse. "Do you know what caused this injury?" he asked, indicating the scarring on the side of Garrett's face.

"No, but he was holding that side of his head when he went down," Corvo told him. "It was like he was in pain."

Piero said nothing, before lifting Garrett's eyelids and peering at them. His eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the eerie blue glow of Garrett's right eye, but he made no comment.

After a few more minutes of careful inspection, Piero stepped back. "As far as I can tell it is nothing physical. I was never the best at being a physician, however, much to Sokolov's pleasure. In any case, he will most likely wake in a few hours."

Corvo nodded, and picking up Garrett, thanked Piero before heading back to his rooms. There was a spare mattress on the floor of his room, it wasn't much, but it would do. He quickly removed Garrett's bow and other weaponry, placing it on the floor next to his mattress, and arranged his cloak in some form of blanket, placing a spare in case Garrett needed it.

It was at this point that Corvo realised how tired _he _was, he still hadn't fully recovered from his time in Coldridge and he'd been up the entire night getting to Campbell. The tension earlier had only sapped him further, so with a quick glance at the sleeping figure on the floor, Corvo practically crashed onto his bed, the sound of a loudspeaker announcement lulling him to sleep.

_"Attention. All citizens living on the north side of the river between John Clavering Boulevard and Dunwall Tower are advised to remain indoors until further notice."_

It was cold. Corvo instantly recognised the deep chill that the Void gave him, settling into his bones, like he was immersed in the deepest part of the ocean, where the great leviathans were said to reside. He could smell the earthy, musty scent of well-used leather, and the sharp tang of grease settled in the back of his throat. Upon opening his eyes, he found himself to not be in his bed at the Hound Pits; the room and its interior he didn't recognise at all. A vast network of cogs and gears stretched away to his left, while a stairwell was above his head. Rising, it took Corvo a moment to realise he was on the inside of a clock tower. Light streamed in through the clock face and shuttered windows high above him; candles flickered in a non-existent breeze, reminding Corvo that this was not a real place, only an image. Moving towards the bottom of the stairs, a gleam caught his eye.

Corvo found himself looking at several cases, each displaying sets of jewellery, and a collection of what looked like antique plaques from a city. Closer inspection of one showed that a lot of the words had been rubbed off, but some text was legible:

_Hers was the dream the Baron brought to life. Founded BRy452._

"Do you like my collection?" a voice asked, and Corvo turned to find Garrett leaning against a railing, looking up at the mechanism of the clock tower.

"I'm impressed," Corvo replied. "Why the plaques?"

"I have an interest in history," Garrett said.

They were silent for a moment, before Garrett spoke again.

"This is my home. It looks like my home, anyway," he said. "I know it isn't, though."

"Because I'm here?"

"The clock isn't working," Garret answered. He gestured to the intricately meshed array. The great hulking metal cogs and gears lay dead and motionless on their rods and axles. While Corvo expected to hear the clinks and clanks of teeth on teeth and springs twanging, it was silent. It was oppressive; this building once alive and full of the noise of time passing reduced to nothing more than a storehouse of cast iron parts. The clockwork seemed to stare down at them, gazing upon the two men as they in turn gazed up at the still mechanism.

"I always make sure it's running. I like the sound of ticking," Garrett said. "And you're here," he added, turning to face Corvo. "What happened? I remember-" he paused, frowning. "There was a pain, in my head-" he gestured to the side of his face "-and then I blacked out. What happened after?"

"I took you to Piero, he's a doctor – of sorts – and he couldn't find anything wrong with you. He said you would wake in a few hours. As for me, there wasn't much else I could do besides sleep, so here we are."

"This is a dream? Is this your friend's doing?"

"I never said he was my friend," Corvo told him. "Yes, it is the Outsider. I think he prefers to wait until we're asleep, or perhaps he can't affect a conscious mind unless you're at a shrine of his. He won't come to us, though. We'll have to find him." He peered around the tower. "How do you leave this place?"

"Up there," Garrett pointed to the top of the stairwell. "You have to climb down the outside of the tower, re-enter and take a stairwell to a more respectable level." He paused. "It's how I ensure my privacy. And nobody climbs the tower this high anyway."

"Why not?" Corvo asked, as they mounted the stairs, coming to the open window.

"They think it's haunted," Garrett smiled suddenly, before exiting the window.

Following Garrett down the series of beams and scaffolding, Corvo got to see the man in the environment he truly called his own. Countless buildings stretched out beneath him, all hemmed together like people huddled for warmth. The only indication that they weren't actually in the city Garrett came from was the sky being replaced with the vast blue expanse of the Void. In the distance, Corvo saw that the edges of the city were falling into the blue. He wondered how far they would have to search before the Outsider decided to make his appearance.

They reached the door Garrett had mentioned beforehand, wherein he had to disarm several mechanisms surrounding it.

"Warnings, traps, that sort of thing," he said, "just in case someone _is _curious enough to come up here."

He opened the door, gesturing for Corvo to enter first. He stepped into a darkened room, vast blackness stretching before them. It was only when Garrett entered, closing the door behind him, did he realise that their environment had changed. The wooden beams and supports, and most notably the stairwell, Corvo had expected to see were gone. Instead they were replaced with cold flagstones, and a darkness that he could barely see by.

"Is he some sort of Trickster? Is this one of his tricks?" Garrett asked, placing a hand on the brickwork.

_The one who walks here is all things. Cradle songs of comfort and bones gnawed by teeth. _The Heart surprised Corvo for a moment, before he turned to Garrett.

"Honestly? I don't know. This place has never made any sense to me."

"Well, if it is, I want to know why he decided the basement of an asylum inhabited by blind abominations was appropriate."

Garrett pressed his hand to the wall, which Corvo saw was actually metal. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted, and he realised he was looking at a cell door. He took a step forward, peering through the grate. Barely perceptible in the darkness, a figure loomed, humanoid but inherently _wrong. _It was disconcerting, and Corvo soon drew back from the window.

_Can you hear them too? Crying out in the dark?_

The Heart's comment unsettled Corvo further, and he said nothing, instead following Garrett's lead as they crept down the corridor. A blue light flared in the distance, giving the pair light to see by as they trod over the stones. Glass crunched under their feet at one point, and Garrett flinched, eyes wide as he searched around them. Corvo saw he was agitated, carefully examining all his surroundings as he moved forward. He wondered what exactly the abominations Garrett had mentioned were. He hadn't wanted to look through the doors of cells on either side of them for fear of attracting attention; despite the fact Corvo knew nothing could harm them in the Void. He was about to speak, when they reached the source of the blue light.

"I thought as much," Garrett said, bending to pick the flower – a poppy, by Corvo's estimate, except the colours were wrong. He plucked at the petals for a moment, lost in thought, before a bright light engulfed them both, causing them to shield their eyes.

"Looking for me?" a voice asked, one Corvo instantly recognised as belonging to the Outsider.

He lowered his arm, to find himself standing in yet again another unfamiliar room, the sides of which fell away to the vast blue Void. The Outsider himself hovered over a pedestal in the centre of the room, black eyes keenly watching the pair.

Garrett looked the Outsider over, before speaking. "I was hoping you'd be something more like Red Jenny."

To Corvo's surprise, the Outsider actually _laughed, _setting a deeper chill in his bones more than anything else he had experienced. It echoed around them, deepening in pitch and taking on a hollow, bitter edge that brought to mind the rattling of things long-dead and best forgotten. And then, from the deep blue abyss below them, an answering call; a sound Corvo had only heard once in his life, that of a great whale from the depths of the ocean.

Judging by Garrett's reaction, it wasn't well-received by him, either. The man winced, pressing his hand to his blue eye, the other closing in pain.

"If Red Jenny were summoning you here, would you really wish to see her?" the Outsider asked. "Corvo," he said, turning his attention to the other man. "Your choices fascinate me. You spared High Overseer Campbell, then you almost jeopardise your entire mission for a man who does not trust you? I'm older than the rocks the city was built on, and even I didn't see that coming."

Corvo said nothing, and the Outsider turned his attention to Garrett.

"_You_ fascinate me even more. You were not chosen, like Corvo; I dismissed you when I saw you, yet even fate had a way of fooling me to your motivations. For a man who abhors involving himself in public affairs, you played a key part in the downfall of Orion and his Graven."

"It wasn't for Orion's benefit," Garrett answered.

"No, it wasn't, was it?" the Outsider asked, regarding the man in his black-eyed gaze. "It was for someone who resented your success and your control, who never understood your methods and motivations, and in all, someone who, for all accounts, just wanted to be _noticed_ by you."

"If you're asking me if I think I failed Erin, I think you've made your point," Garrett replied.

"Failure is subjective. I, for one, found it interesting that you would sacrifice so much. Would you be willing to do it again?"

"I get the feeling that you're definitely not asking," Garrett said. "Is that the reason why you brought me here? Why you've made this place look like Northcrest Manor's Ceremony Room?" He gestured to the surroundings, the chapel-like room with an altar and a pedestal set into the middle. Braziers burned at the walls and banners hung around them. The only thing that was odd about the room was the roof – a glass dome that had shattered.

"I thought it fitting." Corvo caught the Outsider smiling a little. "After all, this is where it all began. You and Erin interfering with the Baron's ritual; a ritual that could have resulted in a lot worse had you not."

"You call her falling into- into a cosmic energy- or whatever it was- interference?" Garrett asked.

"The Primal is a force which Elias Northcrest and his brother had hoped to rule the city with. What they did not understand, and now few who reside in your city do, is that the Primal exists for _balance. _What you and Erin did upset the balance, but if the Northcrests had continued their ritual to completion it would have overthrown the very order they wished to keep."

"How do you know this? What exactly is this Primal?" Corvo asked.

The Outsider was silent for a moment, as if considering the answer to the question.

"I reside in this space alone. But, as you both now know, there are many _other _spaces outside of this. There are also many other forces. The Primal is a way in which I can watch, or I can influence, one of these many realms in an effort to maintain the equilibrium. In short, _I _am the Primal. If the Northcrests had finished their ritual they would have breached the Void itself, and most likely I would have perished. Your _interference _stopped this."

"If your way of saying thank you is embedding a piece of this in my eye-"

"It was not, once more Fate eluded my gaze," the Outsider interrupted. "You should count yourself lucky that it was not a larger piece, or you would have ended up more like Erin, corrupted and attuned to the very souls and foundations I set the Primal to watch."

"So why am I here, if not for you to thank me?"

"When you set out to restore the Primal Stone and collect its energy back within the vessel, you were working under the assumption that it was in four parts: a piece held in the Great Safe of the Keep, a second held in the laboratory under Northcrest Manor, a third by the Graven leader Orion, and the fourth, residing in your eye. Only _you _could bring them together, or even sense them, because you are attuned to the forces of the Primal. More so, you _withstood _the corruption that many others succumbed to. A simple thief, standing where others perceived to be greater would fall. But your task is not complete."

"Let me guess, there's another piece?" Garrett asked. Corvo could almost detect the defeated resignation in his tone.

"Did you not question why the Gloom was still prevalent in the City?" the Outsider asked. "It is fed by discord, suffering, sorrow; the strongest emotions the Primal can detect. Six months ago the city of Dunwall was rocked by the assassination of the Empress and the implication of her Royal Protector in the plot to murder her," he gestured to Corvo. "It is teetering on its foundations."

"You are correct, there is another piece. A shard, small enough to not cause an issue in your world, but significant enough to cause many in Corvo's. The Primal was never supposed to exist in any other space but yours. If you do not act soon, both your worlds will collapse, followed by others; like a house of cards they will come crashing down until they are unrecognisable as what they once were. _Find it, _and reunite it with the remaining shards, and this will not happen."

There was silence for a moment, while Corvo and Garrett took in the full meaning of the Outsider's words. Corvo surmised that he and Garrett were going to have to have a very long conversation, just so Corvo could _understand _what was going on. How had Garrett ended up with a piece of this cosmic force in his _eye? _

"If this is so important to you, why do you need me to do it? I am, by your standards, a simple thief, after all. You're the supposed deity," Garrett said.

"Simply put, I cannot," the Outsider answered. "The Primal is hidden from me, it _knows _I am looking for it and does not want to be found. It cannot detect _you_ as you are too closely intertwined with it. It is always difficult to see oneself as you truly are, after all."

"Why does it not want to be found?" Corvo asked.

"It is like me, it enjoys throwing a stone in the ocean and watching the ripples. And the ripples have only just started to form. It does not want its show interrupted."

"So, I have to find this shard somehow," Garrett surmised. "Without help from you."

"I did not say you would not be without help," the Outsider said. "I gave Corvo tools to aid his mission, and while you would not be best-suited to receive my mark, I can give you _this."_

He raised his hand, a small gleaming object floated above it. It was round, silver metal with a greenish blue tinge. It instantly reminded Corvo of Garrett's eye, even the colours were similar.

"This eye once belonged to the man you call the Sneak Thief," the Outsider explained. "He was much like you, he was not _impressive, _unless he was pressed to do so. But he was never more than a simple blackhand who stole to pay rent."

"I found that in the basement of the Moira Asylum," Garrett said. "It suggests to me that he might have had some pretty interesting times."

"Oh, he did," the Outsider said. "His original eye was cut out on the orders of the Trickster, after all. This eye was created for him by those who opposed wished to seek alliance, but the Sneak Thief had his own agenda, like you. I thought it fitting to now give it to you."

He waved his hand, and the eye disappeared. Corvo suspected it would act the way the Heart did – Garrett would not be able to hold it or see it, but it would always be _there, _a constant entity on the fringes of his mind.

"With this Eye, you will be able to _see_ in a much greater depth. You will be able to see into the very depths of beings and people, into the very soul of the city. Like the Primal, you will be attuned to the foundations of _everything_. And they will speak. You should listen every once in a while."

"I will be watching, and when your task is complete, I shall return you to your home. Just make sure you don't meet Red Jenny along the way."

With his final, parting words, the Outsider disappeared, leaving Garrett and Corvo stood in the facsimile of the Ceremony Room, alone.

"He's even worse than I imagined," Garrett said.

_**A/N: Here's another chapter! Thanks to my fellow Taffers for their help with this one. I apologise for the dialogue-heavy chapter, but it needed to be done at somepoint, so. If you need anything explaining about the situation, please let me know and I shall endeavor to explain. Thanks to all who've sent me their support for this fic, also, to "New Reader", I am a lady. Pleased to meet you, also thank you for the kind words!  
The Description of Garrett's route out of the Clocktower can be found here: **_**_ /1nsH99j_**


	3. Chapter 3

Corvo woke to pale grey light filtering in through the window. He was back in his bed in the Hound Pits, none the worse for his and Garrett's visit to the cold blue expanses of the Void. He and the man had spent a long time after the Outsider had left them discussing the events in Garrett's city, while Corvo had shown him the full extent and power of the Outsider's Mark.

Looking over to where he'd laid Garrett earlier, Corvo found the mattress empty, blanket next to it untouched. He rose, stretching, before judging the time of day to be around midday, meaning he'd gotten at least a few hours sleep – not that it came naturally to him anymore, nightmares and prison had left him with a tendency to sleep less than he used to.

Garrett was not there, but his equipment was. On the floor in front of the mattress, Corvo saw arrows of varying types – the heads differed – had been placed on the floor in a neat row, presumably so the man could take inventory. He inspected them for a moment, before picking up one with a larger head. The inside glowed, a compound of some sort that Corvo couldn't identify.

"Be careful with that."

Corvo looked up to see his guest stood by the door. In the Void, Garrett had explained to him what had occurred in his city; Erin, the gloom, the Graven, and most importantly how the Primal had played a key part in it all. And now the force was loose in Corvo's own city, and if the Outsider were speaking the truth (Corvo had little reason to doubt otherwise) it would cause untold destruction in both places. But, looking at Garrett now, Corvo could see that past events had affected him more than the man would ever say. Corvo had lost six months of his life in Coldridge Prison. Garrett had lost a _year; _more so, he had lost a year he couldn't remember. He'd returned to a city that had changed completely and been caught up in a fight he'd had no intention of being a part of. He may have prevailed, but the cost would most likely be one that would take a long time to recover from. And now, he was being drawn back into the fray, in a place he did not recognise as his own.

Corvo saw loneliness in Garrett, a loneliness the man would not even admit to himself. Here, in Dunwall, he was lonelier than ever, with nothing familiar and nobody to call a friend. Corvo was not naive enough to say he was Garrett's friend, not yet anyway.

He placed the arrow he'd been looking at back in the pile, standing up to face the man.

"Interesting devices," he commented. "What are the different tips?" he asked.

Garrett took a few steps forward, crouching and starting to replace the arrows in his quiver. As he did so, he explained each arrow to Corvo.

"Broadhead and Sawtooth," he said. "Offensive arrows. I don't like to use them, but it's wise to come prepared. These are simple blunt ones, to create noise or knock down pulleys I can't reach. _This_ is filled with water, I use them to snuff out light sources – open flame ones, and from what I've seen of your city they're going to be all but useless here. These ones-" he indicated an arrow with a hook-like device on the end and a rope wound around it "-allow me to reach higher places on a more permanent level than the Claw. If I'm going to be using the same entrance to get in and out of a place, it's easier to plan ahead with one of these."

"What about these last three?" Corvo asked.

"This one sets fires," Garrett said, replacing the aforementioned arrow. "These are more explosive – useful if I need to create a big distraction – and these ones have a nerve agent inside that disorients men and animals for a few seconds. Choke arrows. Better than killing them."

Corvo nodded his agreement. "Piero might be able to fashion you some more arrows to your specialisations," he said. "You would probably have to leave him with some examples, but otherwise you're unlikely to find anywhere that will supply what you need. Bows are a redundant weapon in this city – the guard here carries pistols more often than not."

Garrett smirked. "Mine can't even afford the bullets to go in the pistols."

He finished placing the arrows in the quiver, before placing it on his back. Corvo noticed he was already wearing his other equipment.

"I had a look around here while you were still asleep," he said. "The tower is interesting. As is the man in the workshop. I presume he's Piero?"

Corvo nodded. "He'll most likely want to look you over again," he said. "Although it would probably be best not to tell him the reason for your eyes being the way they are. Not many people are privy to the Outsider's knowledge, after all."

"I wonder why," Garrett muttered.

Corvo lead the way down to the ground floor of the Hound Pits, seeking out Havelock and the others. On the way down they passed Wallace, Pendleton's manservant, and Lydia, who were in deep discussion about the running of the Hound Pits. As the pair passed, the conversation ceased, as both eyed Garrett with expressions mingling between curiosity and caution, although Corvo saw Wallace also bore an extra layer of hostility – the man had delusions of grandeur, a noble's servant who thought he belonged to the class above him.

The bar area of the Pits was empty; Corvo gathered Havelock and Pendleton were outside somewhere, and said so to Garrett. The man nodded, deftly picking up an apricot tart from the bar as he passed.

"I think I saw them stood near the side of the building, earlier," he said, breaking off a piece of the tart. "I didn't catch any of their conversation, though."

He frowned as he chewed. "Even this thing tastes like fish," he muttered. Corvo snuffed a laugh as they approached Havelock and Pendleton, who were stood by a set of steps that lead to the sewer tunnels under the Hound Pits.

"Hello Corvo, Garrett," the man said, nodding his head. He paused for a moment, as if deciding his next words. "I should apologise for my manner before," he said to Garrett. "I had no reason to trust you, and the fact of the matter is I still don't. Yet, you have done nothing to prove yourself as suspicious, and it is doubtful the Lord Regent would send a man in your condition to spy on us." He held out a hand for Garrett to shake. "As it is, I apologise for putting you in the situation I did."

"My condition?" Garrett asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't take Havelock's proffered hand, instead placing another piece of the tart in his mouth and chewing slowly.

"It came to my attention that you collapsed yesterday, after talking with us. I can only assume it was due to undue stress, which we – _I – _most likely caused. Perhaps combined with the injury to your face?" Havelock asked, after he let his hand drop, clearly seeing the lost cause in getting Garrett to shake his hand.

"My condition is just fine, _admiral," _Garrett replied. After a beat, he spoke again. "You should be more worried about yourself. You're not used to being on land this long, are you? You ache to be back on the sea, do you not?"

Havelock didn't answer Garrett's equally personal question. Instead he turned to Corvo.

"I expect that Martin will be joining us shortly," he began. "I hate to start your day with such a strange matter but the servants heard something last night, moving through the storm drains beneath the building. Most likely a weeper, the poor bastard. There's no hope for them once the plague gets that far along. Nothing more than a shuffling corpse full of sickness and insects, if you ask me. I'd appreciate you investigating. Just to be sure it's not a nosy guardsman that's getting too close."

"Too scared to go down yourself?" Garrett asked. He snuffed a quiet laugh. "I'd hate to see you with the plague victims where I'm from."

"We'll take a look," Corvo said, forestalling any further confrontation between the two. He could tell he was going to have his work cut out keeping Garrett from angering either Havelock or Pendleton. When Martine arrived, it would most likely get even worse.

"Here's a key to the hatches," Havelock continued. "I'd send a servant down, but they'd die of fear on the spot, I'm afraid. Perhaps Garrett here can gain an understanding of just how bad the plague is."

"Oh, I know how bad plague can get," Garrett said, as they began to head down the steps. "Where I'm from, you get the plague, you go mad. Claw your own eyes out, try to stop the visions. Most end up killing themselves, driven insane by the voices and lack of sleep. Compared to home, the weepers here sound like cattle."

"It's getting harder to for him to not shoot you, you know," Corvo said, as they entered the sewer tunnel, dropping into the shaft.

Garrett snorted. "I'll take _that _threat seriously when he does his own dirty work, instead of sending you."

As they crept into the tunnel, sounds of the weepers echoing off the walls around them, a thought occurred to Corvo.

"How did you know he wanted to get back onto the sea?" he asked.

Garrett was silent for a few seconds, simply listening to the sound of the weepers.

"The Outsider's gift to me," he began. "The eye. It- it spoke. It told me too look at the admiral. That he was restless on land. And I could see it, I could see the _ache _in him, how he wanted to simply be commanding his fleet out on the ocean. And the eye _told me so_."

Garrett's voice was quiet and sounding further unsure than Corvo had ever heard it since meeting the man. Corvo recognised the dissonance.

"It used a voice you recognised?" he asked. Garrett paused in his movements, regarding Corvo for a few seconds.

"He gave me something similar," Corvo elaborated, keeping his voice even. "A heart. I don't know whether he thought it funny, but it speaks with the voice of Jessamine. The Empress."

Garrett nodded, and they continued along the walkway for a few moments, coming to the water's edge. Corvo stepped in, it was cold and came to his knees, but otherwise there were no dangers in the water – the hagfish never came into the sewers, preferring the (somewhat) cleaner open waters. Garrett, for his part, stopped on the edge, looking down into the water. He seemed to take a breath, before he too joined Corvo in the knee-deep water.

They were silent as they moved carefully through the still waters, not wanting to alert the weepers. Rounding the corner, Corvo spotted two of them; one crouched over some rubbish, another roving the corridor off the walkway.

"We can knock them out," Corvo whispered as they silently hoisted themselves onto the platform. "Piero will most likely like a test subject or two for his new cure."

Garrett nodded, reaching behind him and taking out his bow. With a well-practised movement, the bow snapped open, Garrett reaching behind him to take out an arrow, one of the small blunt ones he'd described before.

"I can create a distraction, then you can sneak up behind and take them out," he said, testing the tension on the bowstring. Corvo nodded his approval, crouching low by the wall so as to not alert the two weepers.

The arrow hit the drainage gate on the far end of the tunnel, drawing the attention of both the weepers. It was a simple matter of blinking up behind the two and rendering them unconscious, which Corvo did with ease. He was starting to unnerve himself with how well-practised he was at the manoeuvre.

"It's a useful gift," Garrett said, joining Corvo. "Movement like that would be _very _handy for someone like me."

"Perhaps that's why you weren't chosen to bear the mark," Corvo reasoned. "You'd become less interesting to the Outsider."

"Less? I thought I was at the bottom of the pile anyway. I'm _certainly _not in the same level as you." Garrett was silent for a moment, looking down at the weepers. "I can see why they've got their name," he said eventually.

Corvo nodded his agreement. "We should get back to the others," he said, turning and leading the way down the tunnel. The hatch was easy enough to open, and a long chain dangled into the sewer, providing easy access to the cellar of the Hound Pits. Outside, Cecilia hovered by the hatch, informing Corvo that Martin had arrived, as well as giving the now-usual curious glance to Garrett.

Before entering the bar area, Corvo lingered, motioning at Garrett to stop. The man had been silent since leaving the sewer tunnels, simply following Corvo's lead. Corvo got the impression that he was deep in his own thoughts, about the task given to him by the Outsider and how he was exactly supposed to accomplish it. In hindsight, the plan hadn't been very clear, but Corvo knew the Outsider was unlikely to give them any more information, even if his existence depended on it.

"Problem?" Garrett asked.

"Overseer Martin," Corvo answered. "He might be one. We'll see," he said. He was about the head into the room, before he paused again. "This is probably going to be a useless request, but for your sake more than anything, try and be nice."

Corvo was sure he caught Garrett smirking as they walked into the bar area. Havelock and Martin were in deep conversation. The light of day did nothing to dissuade the unsettling feeling the latter man gave Corvo.

_There are few brave enough to laugh in the Outsider's face. But Teague Martin is one,_ the Heart whispered, instantly causing Corvo to reassess his view on Martin. The man was unsettling, that was for sure, but Corvo had reasoned it to his own paranoia. But this new revelation made Corvo realise that, if pushed, Martin would probably be the most dangerous one of the Loyalists.

Garrett lingered behind Corvo, regarding both men with his usual disinterest mixed with derision.

"Corvo," Havelock greeted him. "I trust you remember Martin. An Overseer before, and perhaps again someday soon."

"I owe you thanks for my rescue," he said, before the figure behind Corvo drew his eye.

"And _who _are you?" he asked, eyeing Garrett over. Garrett returned his gaze evenly, not speaking.

"This is Garrett. A friend from Serkonos," Corvo said, knowing that Martin would not fall for his lie. Mostly, he wanted to see what the man would do, see that his judgement of the man was accurate.

"Serkonos?" Martin asked, eyeing Garrett once more. "Forgive me for saying, but you look like no man from Serkonos that I've ever known."

"I've been travelling recently," Garrett answered.

"Indeed," Martin said. "I won't ask you how you managed to... _acquire _our new ally," he said, though Corvo did notice the man's gaze flicker to the Mark on his hand for a second. "But I trust he is skilled enough to aid you in your mission?"

"You do your job, Overseer, and I'll do mine," Garrett replied. "We'll see who fares better."

"In any case," Havelock broke in. "You've given us a glimmer of hope, Corvo, because we've got what we wanted from Campbell's journal. We know where Emily Kaldwin is being held."

At mention of Emily, Corvo instantly had several emotions run through him. Hope, happiness, sadness for her mother; but most of all he felt _fear _for the girl, for what had happened to her while Corvo had been imprisoned and she'd been hidden away. He didn't say anything though, instead allowing the pair to continue. Behind him, Garrett shifted on his feet.

"The Golden Cat, of all places," Martin said. "A bathhouse for the aristocrats. Little better than a cursed brothel."

"But there's an unfortunate twist," Havelock broke in. "It appears that Pendleton's own kinsmen stand in our way. The twins Morgan and Custis. Not only are they controlling Emily, but they have the controlling parliamentary votes that we so desperately need."

He turned back towards the bar as Martin continued: "Yes, the Pendletons have to die. But most importantly, Emily must be brought here safely so we can protect her until the Lord Regent and his entourage have been dealt with. Pendleton's waiting on the dock. He's asked to brief you personally – I think it's best."

With a short nod to Corvo and Garrett, Martin turned and left, leaving the pair alone in the bar.

"Brothers sending people to kill their own?" Garrett asked. "Sounds like your city isn't so different from mine after all."

Corvo looked over to him. "You're coming with me. I might need someone of your skill to get into the Golden Cat. It's not a place I've been to. And I don't trust that Havelock or Martin won't try and kill you if I left you here."

"I'm definitely not going to find the stone here, either," Garrett added. "The more I get to see of your city, the better."

He looked over to the door. "Martin is an interesting man. He knows we're lying about where I'm from."

"He saw you sleeping in a chair in the High Overseer's office. A chair you didn't move from for a week. If I were him, I'd be right to suspect too," Corvo replied. "He might try and get something to use to his advantage later on. For now, we can't do anything without causing Havelock to suspect you more than he already does. I have no desire to repeat this morning's situation."

Garrett nodded his assent, and the men turned to leave the bar and head to the dock. On the way, they stopped at Piero's workshop, where Corvo picked up some more darts for his crossbow.

"You seem to have recovered well," Piero said to Garrett. "Do you know what the cause was? I did not see any signs of plague on you, so you need not fear that."

"It definitely wasn't that," Garrett nodded his agreement, before reaching behind him and pulling three arrows out of his quiver. "Corvo tells me you can make arrows. Will these be a problem?"

Piero took the three arrows with interest; Corvo recognised them as the Broadhead, Rope and Choke.

"You made these?" Piero asked, inspecting them. "What does the agent in this do? It is not one I recognised."

"It's a combination of sulphur and quicklime," Garrett informed him. "Enough to incapacitate, but not kill."

Piero nodded, placing the arrow on the table. "These other two are simple enough. Ingenious designs, may I add. I would be very interested to see how the other arrows you carry work. But you have pressing business," Piero turned to Corvo. "I assume your friend here is going with you – I saw enough of his conversations with Havelock to know it wouldn't be prudent for him to remain here. However, I do not have any materials to make a mask for him."

"I've got my own," Garrett said, indicating his scarf.

"Indeed," Piero replied, "but I designed Corvo's here with a filter to counteract the worst of plague. Yours will not provide such protection."

"I'll hold my breath," Garrett told him, before he was silent for a moment. "I'm most likely immune to the plague anyway; I was to the one in my home city."

"Is that so?" Piero asked. "Perhaps I should ask for a sample of your blood instead. If I found a cure before Sokolov he would be _most _displeased."

"Not now," Corvo said. "As you said, we've business to attend to."

Piero nodded his agreement. "Lord Pendleton is outside. I believe he wished to see you before you left?"

The pair left Piero to his work, finding Pendleton near the steps to the dockside. The man gave Garrett a cursory look, but chose to address Corvo instead. After the results of their previous conversations, Corvo could see why he would prefer to speak to him. Especially with the matter being as serious as it was.

"I've asked to speak to you myself," the man began. Corvo could hear the faint tremor in his voice – Pendleton was keeping up a good facade, but clearly the topic of conversation was affecting him far more than perhaps even he realised. Corvo wondered what it would be like to be in his position. He'd had no family to speak of, besides the Empress, and he'd heard enough rumours around court to know many people suspected his relationship to Emily Kaldwin be more than her protector. Part of Corvo admired Pendleton's resolve – he was able to stand in front of the man who would kill his family. Corvo wondered if he would be able to keep his calm if he faced the one who killed the Empress like Pendleton was facing him now.

"You see," Pendleton continued, "I'm sending you to kill my older brothers, Morgan and Custis. They're horrible men; it's true, as you may have heard. Cruel beyond words." He broke off, reaching for a bottle of whiskey by his side. "Further, my brothers are close allies to the Lord Regent, and as long as they are in Parliament, we cannot gather the votes we'll need to stop the Lord Regent from further consolidating his power. These days, they're best known for exploiting their favour with him to cheat others out of their wealth. Let's just say that not every family evicted and quarantined for having the plague actually _has _the plague."

"Nice to see things never change wherever you are," Garrett muttered.

Pendleton chose to ignore Garrett, and continued: "I warned my brothers in every way I could, I really did, but they never did listen to me. They'll be at the Golden Cat tonight, at their usual revels. They'll be protected by the City Watch, so it'll be dangerous."

"Now go," he finished, reaching for the bottle once more. "Please do it before I change my mind."

_The younger Pendleton. Jealous little Treavor. Always in the shadow. _The Heart's statement was soft, barely noticeable above the noise of Piero in his workshop. Garrett appeared to have had a similar sort of revelation from his own gift from the Outsider, as he raised an eyebrow, watching the figure of Pendleton leave.

Samuel was already waiting for them at the boat, above them Martin watched; Corvo suspected he was keeping an eye on Garrett, attempting to glean any information he could.

"I'll take you to the Golden Cat when you're ready," Samuel said. "I've taken Lord Pendleton enough times, believe me," he added with a small smirk.

"Are we always going to have to take the boat?" Garrett asked, gingerly stepping in again.

"Unless you'd rather climb over the wall and through several quarantined districts, or swim, yes," Samuel said.

As they pulled away from the Hound Pits, Samuel spoke up again. "Did you find out why you're here?" he asked Garrett.

"I did," Garrett replied. "It still won't make me like your boat, though."

* * *

"I'll get you as close as I can to the Golden Cat," Samuel said, as the boat drew near the shore again. Corvo shifted, placing the mask Piero made for him on his face once more. Garrett reached into a small pocket behind him, pulling out a metal container and a small cloth. To Corvo and Samuel's amusement, the man started to apply kohl around his eyes, darkening the skin and masking his features.

"Full face masks would impede my sight and ability to shoot a bow," Garrett said, upon noticing their looks. He replaced the container. "I have to compromise." He pulled up his scarf to reinforce his point.

"It would work if we were in the dark," Samuel conceded, prompting a glare from Garrett. "Anyway, you'll have to get the rest of the way on your own," he said to Corvo. "The entrance is near Holger Square."

"The place we were in last night?" Garrett asked. Corvo saw him frown. "I _don't _revisit places I've been. It's a rule."

"We have no choice," Corvo told him. "Plus, we're not going to go into Holger Square."

Garrett didn't look convinced, but there was nothing Corvo could do to reassure him. At the moment, his only priority was finding Emily, Outsider's request be damned.

"The main thing is to ensure that little girl, Emily, gets back all safe and sure."

"That's another thing," Garrett added. Corvo was glad his features were masked, that way Garrett couldn't see him roll his eyes. "Rescue missions are not my style. Last one I was hired to do was a- I don't even know. They fainted, though. I had to drag them through a prison."

"Anything else you'd wish to add before we leave?" Corvo asked, as the boat drew up to shore.

"The last time I was in a brothel, it caught fire."

"I'm pretty certain that's _not _how you're meant to treat the ladies," Corvo said, hiding a smile this time. Garrett narrowed his gaze at him.

"Well, the Pendletons are most likely to be in there, so make sure it's near them if you _do_ manage to set it on fire," Samuel said. "There'll be a whole lotta guards, though. Slackjaw might have an idea on how to get you inside. This here's his territory. He and his Bottle Street gang hole up at the old Dunwall Whiskey Factory. They sell the elixir that folks use to fight off the plague." He slowed the boat, stopping at the shore and stepping off. "I'll lay low, but keep an eye out for you and the little lady you're bringing back. Good luck to you. I know Emily must mean a lot to you."

"Thanks," Corvo said, stepping off the boat. Garrett, once again, looked a _lot _happier to be on dry land.

"Be careful going up the street," Samuel added. "A river-hand I know pulled up alongside me last night and said there's one of those Watchtowers on Clavering now. I guess you gettin' rid of Campbell really shook up the Lord Regent."

"Good," Corvo muttered, before bidding goodbye to Samuel and leading Garrett up the pathway. The man was silent, simply taking in the sights of the district.

Above them, the Watchtower loomed, before it suddenly whirred into action. For a moment, Corvo thought the tower had spotted them. Judging by Garrett's reaction, he'd thought the same too. But, no, the tower instead fired on a group of people on the bridge above them; the same bridge Corvo had seen Watch officers disposing bodies from the previous night.

"Poor bastards," he said softly, watching the small group getting fired upon.

"You people like your machines, don't you?" Garrett asked, adjusting his scarf slightly. "I thought _my _city was full of overzealous guards."

"The boldest measures are the safest," Corvo said, quoting a sign he'd seen around the city a lot. Garrett didn't look convinced, but he didn't speak further.

They quickly and quietly moved up the dockside, Corvo leading the way through the cold, grey air. He wasn't particularly happy to be back in the Distillery District again, the smell seemed worse this time around. In addition, the air felt thicker, tenser, as if Corvo's actions the previous night had made everyone more aware that change was on the horizon. Either way, there were more guards in the area, especially around the Wall of Light in front of Clavering Boulevard, and now the Watchtower in the middle of the street.

"What does _that_ do?" Garrett asked, eyeing the contraption. It took Corvo a moment to realise that it was probably the first time he'd seen a Wall of Light.

"It's a Wall of Light," he began, before realising his explanation would most likely fall short. "Fire one of your arrows at it," he said instead. "You'll see."

Garrett didn't say anything, but complied, unfolding his bow and drawing an arrow from his quiver. He took careful aim, clearly watching the patrolling guards and ensuring his arrow didn't garner their notice.

He fired, and the arrow impacted squarely with the centre of the Wall, disintegrating it in an instant. Garrett replaced his bow, raising an eyebrow as he did so. "Useful," he commented eventually. "Extreme, but useful."

They watched as a guard passed through the beams unharmed. "How does he not end up like the arrow?"

"When they wire them, each guard has to press their hand to the wiring device. They receive a small electric shock but the Wall then recognises them as friendly and deactivates while they pass through. In theory you could rewire it to recognise just you."

Garrett nodded. "We're going around it, then," he surmised.

"Yes," Corvo agreed. "Plus, the Bottle Street gang are nearby. Samuel's probably right; Slackjaw _does _know this area better. If he's willing to help then I'll gladly take it."

"Who is he?" Garrett asked, as they quietly crept down the street.

_He deals in flesh, weapons, strong drink. They've always called him Slackjaw. _The Heart's summary was short, but apt.

"I don't know much about him," he admitted. "Only what Samuel's told me. Bottle Street gang is one of the bigger factions in the city – even bigger since the plague hit. And if they're selling their own brand elixir and it _works, _then presumably Slackjaw's got a pretty big reach. Either way, this district is his for the moment."

They reached the end of the street, at which Corvo noticed the apartment that had belonged to Granny Rags was closed, the wall beneath emblazoned with the red X signifying plague. Corvo had seen many of them since getting out of Coldridge, far more then there had been before he'd left to travel the Isles on the Empresses' behalf. Above them, a loudspeaker interrupted the quietness of the district with an announcement:

_"Attention Dunwall Citizens. Thaddeus Campbell – formerly High Overseer – is no longer a citizen of Dunwall. He now bears the Heretic's Brand and by one of the oldest traditions of the Abbey of the Everyman, it is now a minor criminal offense to offer this man aid or housing. In this time of spiritual crisis, the Overseers have initiated the Feast of Painted Kettles until a new High Overseer is chosen."_

"Painted Kettles?" Garrett asked.

"It's tradition," Corvo shrugged, not wanting to expand on the ins and outs of the Abbey of the Everyman. For one, they didn't have the time. Another thing was that a man had stepped out from the alleyway in front of them.

"Hey, you're just the man I's lookin' for," he said, pointing to Corvo. "Slackjaw's wanting to talk to you."

Corvo raised an eyebrow. He knew his escape from Holger Square hadn't exactly been clean but he'd kept himself from being noticed the last time he'd been in the district. He frowned for a moment, before recalling he'd actually dispatched two Bottle Street gang members for attacking the merchant down the street. He hoped they weren't the sort to hold a grudge.

"Someone's popular," Garrett muttered, as they followed the man down the street, to the entrance to the distillery. His eyes darted the graffiti on the wall by the entrance; _YOU CANNOT KILL THE RAT PLAGUE. _Simple, stark, but true, Corvo was saddened to admit. Piero's and Sokolov's remedies had their respective strengths, but neither had achieved a true plague cure as of yet. Corvo was reminded of Garrett claiming he would be immune to the plague. He had been immune to his own city's plague, the Gloom, because of his connection to the Primal and the stone embedded in his eye. The cause of Dunwall's plague, however, was not supernatural, or witchcraft, it was brought by the rats. Corvo hoped that Garrett's protection would be enough; otherwise he would most likely have to start giving him some elixir as a preventative measure.

Inside the distillery, the smell of whiskey was stronger than ever, but it was also mixed with the smell of sweat, and death. Nowhere in the city escaped that smell anymore. The gang members were arrayed about the yard. They were tense, Corvo could tell, but he wasn't sure whether it was him, the threat of plague, or the man dressed in dark leather with a glowing eye they were most afraid of.

"You think your mask scares me?" one of the gang members challenged as Corvo and Garrett passed him. "I think it's stupid. And what are you supposed to be?" He rounded on Garrett. "You look like a circus freak." Garrett simply looked the man up and down, fixing him with a cold glare that was enhanced by the eerie blue glow of his eye.

_His mother's dying words were 'Give us a whiskey, darling,'"_ the Heart whispered, revealing that the man's bravado was nothing more than a sham. Garrett clearly sensed it too, for he kept his stare fixed on the man until the latter backed down and looked to the floor.

The rest of the gang watched them as they progressed into the distillery. Slackjaw was in a room at the far end, surrounded by wooden kegs containing whiskey. The back room also featured an elixir still, revealing the source of the precious commodity. Corvo had heard supplies were running low, and guessed that most people in this district came to Slackjaw for their supply now. He wondered what the man charged.

"You look like a man out for murder," Slackjaw said to him, before eyeing Garrett. "Your friend, not so much. Anyways, you look like men I might have some work for." He paused, crossing to the front of the desk so he was stood in front of the men. Corvo found him to be less repulsive than he would have first thought, for a criminal, anyway. Corvo no longer had the luxury to put himself above such men, however. He _was _travelling with a reputable thief, if Garrett's words about himself were indeed true.

"Way I figure it," Slackjaw continued, "There ain't nobody worth killing 'round here except those two Pendletons over at the Golden Cat." He was met with silence from both parties, but smiled to himself all the same. "I'm right, ain't I? See, Slackjaw knows. Them boys are twins. Rich, mean and weird. Worse than most of their ilk. They been layin' low there awhile. Not sure why. There's a lotta security at the Golden Cat tonight, though," he added. "Special guests and the like. But you're gonna walk in there, dressed like that – _both _of you – and kill the Pendleton brothers? Maybe I got a better way to take care of them two. If you do something for me first. Understand?"

"A favour for a favour," Garrett clarified. Slackjaw nodded his assent.

"Someone, I don't know who, is killing my men, taking my territory, stealing my goods. Might be a fellow, name of Galvani. I sent my best man to investigate, but he went missing and, well, now I need someone to find out what happened to him."

Corvo was almost certain Garrett was going to make some comment on how nobody seemed to want to do their own work, but thankfully the man remained silent. Corvo was glad, if he had a way to get rid of the Pendletons – or even a different way into the Cat – it would be a lot easier without Garrett challenging the only man who was willing to aid them.

"Go to this Galvani's place. He lives nearby, off Clavering Boulevard." Corvo recalled passing the residence the previous night. "You do that for me, and I'll getcha a better way into the Golden Cat."

Corvo gave a short nod, indicating his assent, before motioning to Garrett that they were leaving.

"On top of one rescue mission, we're recruited for another?" Garrett asked. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"If we can get into the Cat without being noticed, I'll take anything," Corvo replied. "If the Pendletons find out we're coming, we don't know what could happen to Emily. I'm not risking that."

Garrett was silent for a moment, before he nodded his agreement. "I can understand that," he said, as they passed through the door to the distillery and into the street.

Outside the distillery, they took a moment, looking around, before Corvo indicated the side street leading to Clavering Boulevard. Before they could move up there, Garrett reached out, stopping him from moving. He was looking intently at the building above them.

"There's a man in the building up there," he said quietly, head turning to the side slightly as he focused. "He's moved, crouched, on the balcony."

Corvo squinted above them, and after a few seconds he too spotted the man Garrett had seen.

"There's another, across the street, on another balcony," Garrett added. "A third further down." He took a breath, leaning forward slightly. "They have masks, hoods. Thick coats and heavy boots."

Corvo could only just make out the man on the balcony above them, let alone the two that were further down the street. Garrett appeared to realise this too, for when he next spoke he explained.

"The Eye," he said. "I can see them. I can see when they walk or move, even if they pass behind a wall. At the moment they're just overlooking the street." He paused, as if he were listening to something. When he next spoke, Corvo got the sense he was repeating someone else's words, not his own. "One of Daud's assassins. They are everywhere, and nowhere."

Corvo had the feeling that Garrett was unsettled by his newfound power. "You get used to it," he said quietly. "The voice. Especially if it's someone you know."

Garrett said nothing, instead peering down the street. His eyes were intent, focused on the people Corvo couldn't see, or perhaps he was just thinking of how to respond.

"Erin," he said, breaking the silence. "It uses Erin's voice."

Corvo reflected that the Outsider did have a poor sense of humour indeed, if he'd created a device that was using the voice of someone Garrett had tried to save as his source of knowledge of this world. The first time he'd heard the Heart speak using the Empresses' voice, in the Void, everything had stopped. He didn't recall how long he'd sat in that lonely place, considering the ramifications of the Outsider's 'gift'. Garrett had had no such luxury. Still, he was coping well, and the gift was proving to be quite useful.

He carefully watched the assassin above him, colloquially known as a Whaler for their outfits – the masks and coat Garrett had described.

"What are the others doing?" he asked.

"Not looking this way," Garrett responded, causing Corvo to smirk. He quickly blinked to the balcony behind the assassin and rendered him unconscious. He would have loved nothing more than to have killed them, and the other two, but he knew that secrecy was more important than his personal vendetta right now. He stepped out onto the balcony, where he spotted the second assassin. The assassin in question then disappeared, at which point Corvo remembered they possessed similar powers to him. Corvo was unsure as to how they'd received them – the Outsider surely couldn't have visited each and every one of them. No, the connection had to be through Daud, their leader.

In any case, the Whaler reappeared on the rooftop opposite, before crouching and looking along the street like he had previously. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past him, embedding itself in the stonework by his head. The assassin moved immediately, disappearing and then reappearing on the floor where the arrow had been fired from – Corvo peered over the balcony and saw Garrett had disappeared. It was disconcerting, the way the assassin moved, but Corvo surmised that was probably how anyone would feel upon witnessing the method of travel enabled to them and himself.

In any case, the Whaler was now directly below him, so it was a simple case of vaulting the balcony and plummeting down to the assassin, knocking him out as they crashed to the floor together.

"Nice," Garrett commented, stepping out from the shadows in which he'd hidden. "The one at the end hasn't moved," he added. "He's waiting."

"Not for long," Corvo said, before blinking to the rooftops and creeping along until he got sight of the last assassin. Thankfully, he was as easy to dispatch as his compatriots, and soon enough Corvo was back at Garrett's side again.

"Who are they?" he asked. "Who's Daud?"

"Daud is a myth. The legendary Knife of Dunwall," Corvo explained. "Or he _was _a myth," he almost spat, six months of anger and hate almost rising to the surface. "Six months ago he killed the Empress. His Whalers kidnapped Emily."

Garrett nodded, almost thoughtful, looking down at the unconscious bodies. "We should move on," he said. "No sense in us being here when they wake up."

Corvo agreed, and they carried on down the street. Upon doing so, he re-encountered Griff, the man he'd rescued from the Bottle Street thugs the previous night. The man looked none the worse for wear, offering Corvo and Garrett some supplies for a little coin.

Garrett peered at the wares, before, surprisingly offering up some coin for a small container of oil used to treat leather.

"I thought you might disapprove if I didn't pay," he said, stowing the bottle away. "The oil's useful for waterproofing and your city is _wet."_

"Actually, I was wondering where you got the money," Corvo said.

"Oh." Corvo got the impression that Garrett was smiling under his scarf. "I stole it from his lordship. I almost feel bad. _Almost." _

Corvo resisted the urge to grin, instead paying Griff a small fee for a vial of Sokolov's elixir and a blueprint that looked like it would interest Piero. If he was reading it correctly, it was an upgrade for optical sights, something that could prove useful for his mask.

They left Griff behind, and Corvo used his abilities to get them to the rooftop overlooking Galvani's residence.

A few guards patrolled the street – more than the previous night – and one was even stood on the second-floor balcony of Galvani's residence. Garrett unfolded his bow once more, selecting an arrow.

"As soon as this hits him, you take him out," he said. Corvo nodded his agreement.

The arrow exploded upon hitting the floor by the man, engulfing him in a thick green smoke that had him retching and coughing. It also enabled Corvo to blink to his side and knock him out, propping him up against the railing, out of sight of the other guards on the street. Indeed, none of them appeared to have noticed his and Garrett's co-ordinated attack, and soon Garrett had crept along the ventilation shaft and joined him on the balcony.

"Ready?" Corvo asked, placing a hand on the door handle. Garrett nodded his assent.

The inside of Galvani's residence was clean and spacious, a stark contrast to the grimy and cluttered street outside. However, it still bore the unmistakable taint of death that the entire city now held. Thankfully, there was nobody nearby their entrance; Corvo saw Garrett looking around the area around them, including the floor and ceiling, apparently getting used to his newfound gifts.

"It's strange," he commented. "I can only make it work if I concentrate enough." He took a breath, as if to steady himself, before peering up at the ceiling. "There are two guards below us," he began, "but I don't think we'll need to go down there."

Before Corvo could ask why, Garrett continued: "There are two more above us and what looks like a third lying down. I can only make out the people, but I think the one lying down is dead. Most likely Slackjaw's man."

"We're going to have to check," Corvo said. "I don't think Slackjaw will take anything less than physical proof."

They quietly moved up the stairs, in which Corvo got another chance to appreciate Garrett in his element. This was a man who crept around inhabited buildings for a living. While he might not approve of the lifestyle, he could appreciate the skill it took. Each movement was careful, cautious, but also quick. Garrett had clearly spent many years perfecting his art. At the top of the stairs, Garrett indicated the room in which the two guards (and what he thought was a body) were in. Corvo nodded silently, drawing his crossbow.

Two sleep darts later and they were stood over the body of the man that was clearly Slackjaw's second. He was laid on the table, and bearing no signs Corvo could see of his apparent demise, aside from the fact the corpse was bloody. He wasn't a physician, and neither was Garrett, who seemed more interested in the books Galvani had collected.

"He was researching the plague," he said, scanning what looked like a journal. "Causes, connections, that sort of thing. Guess that explains the rats."

Corvo nodded absently, frowning over the body of Crowley.

"Find anything we can take back?" Garrett asked, before reaching out and picking something off the table next to the man. He frowned at the object. "Is this a card for an audiograph player?" he asked. "These things are old in my city."

"It is," Corvo acknowledged, taking the card. "Might be from Slackjaw's man. I doubt the guards would have recorded it and Galvani, whoever he is, doesn't appear to leave these lying around." He eyed the card, and the two guards unconscious on the floor. "We should leave, anyhow," he said. "I think I saw a player in the distillery. And if it's from Slackjaw's man, no doubt he'll want to hear it."

* * *

Slackjaw was waiting for them in the distillery still, conveniently stood near the audiograph player Corvo had spotted on their previous visit. He handed the card to the man, who placed it in the player. The three stood to listen.

_"Slackjaw, it's me, Crowley. I'm makin' this in case I don't make it back. You was right, there is someone who wants you dead. Wants to take over the distillery – the whole Bottle Street Gang. And you'll never believe who it is neither. At first I didn't – that's why it's taken me so long. I wanted to be sure and- what's that-?"_

The audiograph ended, but not before the three gathered had been treated to the sounds of Crowley's death. By the sounds of it, he didn't die well; Corvo grimaced behind his mask. Slackjaw had been still, pensively listening to the message. At its end, he turned to Corvo and Garrett.

"So, Crowley's dead," he said, as if commenting on the weather. "Too bad. He was one of my best men. Still," he continued, "you and me had a deal, and Slackjaw never goes back on a deal. Take this key. It ain't for the Golden Cat. No, this key's for the Captain's Chair, a hotel abandoned since the plague gutted this part o'town. Take the stairs to the top. You can use the roof to get into the Golden Cat brothel."

He passed the key to Corvo, who inspected it for a moment. Surprisingly, the key wasn't a forgery, as far as he could tell. Slackjaw had either been very busy looting the most likely dead hotel staff or his reach extended further in the district than Corvo had previously thought.

"See that?" Slackjaw asked, clearly proud. "Slackjaw keeps a bargain, just as good as them who run the city. Maybe a little better. You think about that. _Now _maybe we can help each other out again."

Corvo remained silent, but he did see Garrett raising an eyebrow beside him. Thankfully, Slackjaw didn't notice, and continued: "_I _could get rid of the Pendletons for you, quiet-like and without killin' 'em. But you gotta do something for me in return."

_Of course, _Corvo thought. The prospect of eliminating the Pendleton twins without violence _was _intriguing, however. In the long term, it could be more beneficial – his relationship with Treavor Pendleton was shaky at best, and knowing Corvo had killed his brothers would only serve to detriment his already fraying mental state. Corvo had seen the Lord wasn't fully accustomed to the hardships of their task as of yet, and knowing that he ordered his brothers' murder through Corvo would most likely prove to be a liability more than an aid.

"Tell me what you have in mind," he said.

Slackjaw grinned, catlike, before explaining. "The Cat's having a big reopening tonight. Lot of money clients, including an arts dealer name of Bunting. He's got particular tastes, or so I've been told."

"They always do," Garrett put in. Corvo could see the task had interested him, too. He gathered the prospect of rich people to steal from would be an opportunity Garrett wouldn't have passed up anyway.

"He's got some pretty fancy stuff locked away at his place. And the only thing preventing me from nabbing all that loot is the combination to his safe. Of course the Pendletons have been camped out there for months too, not sure why. That means a lot of the City Watch and other soldier types."

"You need a boxman," Garrett spoke up. "They could do it without us getting you the combination."

"But then, my friend, what would _you _have to bargain with?" Slackjaw asked. "Besides, the best guy in the area couldn't crack it, and then he died of the plague. I got no other means of cracking it."

Garrett relented, nodding to himself.

"Bring me that combination, my masked friends, and then _I _take care of the Pendleton brothers. Just like that. You ain't never even gotta touch 'em. And I promise, I won't kill 'em and no-one'll ever see them again. Now if that ain't a deal, Slackjaw don't know what is."

"Does he always have to speak of himself as if he's not there?" Garrett mused as they left the distillery. Corvo suppressed a laugh.

"What's a boxman?" he asked. Garrett looked up, surprised for a moment.

"A safecracker," he said. "Their speciality is to rob safes without knowing the combination. My fence used to be one, but then he got married. If you go on a job to rob a safe, you either hope you find the idiot's left the combination lying around, or you take a boxman."

Corvo nodded to himself, and they quietly made their way towards the Golden Cat, which involved climbing over a roof near to Griff (he watched them carefully, but didn't say anything), followed by climbing down a stack of pipes against the wall. On the last one, Corvo stopped, looking down the street.

"Weepers," he said, somewhat sadly, watching the shuffling figures.

Garrett paused in his movements also, fixing his gaze on them. He seemed particularly repulsed by the Weeper that vomited up some kind of black sludge, as he shuddered slightly. He then peered up at the network of pipes around them.

"Up there," he pointed. "We should see if there's a way over them."

Corvo silently agreed, and the pair climbed up to rooftop level, overlooking Clavering Boulevard and the streets below it. A Wall of Light blocked their path to the Cat and the hotel next to it, but Corvo easily spotted a way around it.

"We can go over," he said, placing a hand on Garrett's arm and blinking them to the rooftop opposite.

Garrett, after he had recovered, shook his head slightly. "Guess it really does pay to be friends with a deity."

"I wouldn't call the Outsider my friend," Corvo replied, taking care not to slip on the rooftop's surface. "There's the Cat," he said, pointing.

"And the hotel," Garrett added. "I suggest we do take Slackjaw's route. Rooftops are much less patrolled than the street."

"I count three guards," Corvo said, Garrett nodding his agreement. Skirting them was simple enough, time, patience, and a little of Corvo's supernatural ability aided them in that respect, and soon they were inside the hotel, Garrett closing the door quietly behind them.

The Captain's Chair looked as though it had seen better days. A small hotel compared to others Corvo had seen, yet in its prime it was probably quite a reputable establishment. More so than the brothel next door, anyhow. Signs of plague hovered around, a rat here or there, the inherent stench of death that lingered in fabrics and the walls.

They moved carefully up the stairs, carpet muffling their footsteps, not that there was anybody inside the condemned building with them.

"Mind for the rats," Corvo said. "In large groups they'll attack and strip you to the bone while alive."

Garrett slowed at Corvo's words, instead lingering behind him. Corvo had to suppress his laughter as he passed the man. There was a small group of rats pooled at the base of the second floor; Garrett stopped completely, drawing an arrow from his quiver, one with a larger head.

"I assume our policy on vermin is different to humans?" he asked, before drawing the bow and firing at the group of rats.

The arrow _exploded, _setting the rats on fire and killing half almost instantly. The fire didn't last long, however, and most of the surviving rats had scurried away to darker recesses and easier prey. The next two floors were empty, the doors to what had once been suites and rooms bricked up, most likely in an effort to combat the spread of plague – or perhaps to seal infected guests in.

The only other door that wasn't barricaded led to the roof, where the pair took a moment to breathe in the relatively clean air outside. A pathway of sorts along the rooftop brought them to a wide open space, where Corvo got his first look of the Golden Cat bathhouse. The grounds were well-tended, spacious, clearly meant to stimulate certain notions in the heads (or other parts) of the guests. From the roof, Corvo could already see a prostitute talking to a Watch guard, he briefly wondered how long he would hold out before he found himself giving her what would most likely be his wages.

_They thought they would be working in a factory. By the time they arrive, it's much too late. _Corvo almost detected a note of sorrow in the Heart's statement; he too felt a pang of sympathy for the girls who worked here. However, he wasn't naive, he knew it could be worse for them; they could be like the Weepers that roamed the street outside.

They climbed across the rooftops, reaching the main building of the brothel. The only issue Corvo could see for them on this level was a guard on a balcony nearby. Fortunately, a window above him was open, enabling Garrett and himself to simply avoid him and crawl through the opening.

Garrett blinked momentarily, becoming accustomed to his new surroundings. Corvo assumed he was looking to see how many people were inside, and whether he could see who they were here for.

"It doesn't reach all that far," he whispered, aware of the two guards deep in discussion with a woman below them. By listening, Corvo discovered that she was actually the madam of the brothel. By some stroke of luck, they were actually talking about the guests within the brothel, meaning that he and Garrett wouldn't have to look in every room of the place looking for their target – a possibly awkward scenario, considering they _were _in a brothel.

"I can see the two people in here, three courtesans below us and..." Garrett paused, frowning. "Four or five people in the next room. Two of them are, ah, close."

Corvo allowed himself a smirk. "Can you see Emily?" he asked.

Garrett peered around them, before looking above them. "Possibly," he said. "There are two people above us, both are female, and one is smaller than the other. I can't tell for sure, considering I don't actually know what she looks like."

"The madam said Bunting was in the Silver Room," Corvo said. "I'm going to guess it's that way," he pointed to a set of double doors.

It was a slow and painful wait, ensuring the guards didn't see them as they passed through the doors, but they both managed it, ghosting across the larger room they entered into. Amusingly, one of the guards supposed to be patrolling had fallen asleep – one of the women was unsuccessfully trying to rouse him. Corvo also saw the couple whom Garrett had described as 'close'. They were far more interested in each other than anything else happening in the room, and so Garrett and Corvo made it into the Silver Room with relative ease.

They were both silent upon entering. Corvo was mostly because he wasn't expecting the sight he saw before him. A man – presumably Bunting, was strapped into a contraption of sorts, and blindfolded. At least Corvo or Garrett wouldn't be indentified easily. Corvo shared a glance with Garrett, who had raised an eyebrow, regarding Bunting with an expression mingling between amusement and bemusement.

Clearly Bunting didn't realise he was in the presence of a thief and the most wanted man in the Empire, for he spoke like he was chastising a child.

"_Finally. _I've been like this for twenty minutes," he complained. "Your footsteps sound a little loud. Have you gained a little weight, honey?"

Corvo honestly was having trouble believing the situation he'd been placed in, more so than Garrett's appearance in his world. He shook his head slightly, earning a look from Garrett that signified that he too was processing the exact scenario with difficulty.

"Now, just like last time, understand?" Bunting continued, and Corvo had a sudden realisation of what the contraption he was strapped into _did. _"Slowly, and only trigger the shock at my command, get it? And the safe word tonight will be... 'retribution', let's say. You hear that, you stop. One shock out of line, and you're out of a job."

Corvo had to repress his laughter at that point, but he dutifully stepped around the tethered man and reached for the lever that controlled the device. The electricity coursed through Bunting, and Corvo had a few seconds to reflect that Bunting must be a lonely person indeed if _this _was what he spent his money on.

"Oh, that's good," the man cried, "shall I tell you why?"

"Please don't," Garrett said, barely perceptible.

"The Pendletons are here, right?" Bunting continued, "I'll start with them. I've cheated them! Robbed them of thousands."

Corvo reflected that anyone who worked at the Cat was probably privy to a _lot _of sensitive information. He wondered if any of Havelock's or Martin's contacts worked here.

He cranked the lever again, prompting a greater reaction from the dealer, while behind him Garrett sighed and folded his arms, clearly tired of the theatricality of the entire situation already.

"You're ruthless, don't hold back! I'll tell you everything. The Pendleton's inheritance was worth hundreds of thousands at least. Told them it was junk."

Along with his weird fetish for electricity, Bunting was clearly a man who enjoyed swindling others out of coin, even if it were prominent members of Parliament under the Lord Regent's thumb. _Perhaps that only makes it more exciting, _he thought.

The third time he reached for the lever, Corvo was glad the occupants of the brothel were used to the sort of noise Bunting made.

"Retribution, retribution!" he all-but shouted. Corvo was silently disappointed in the man's endurance. "That was perfect, but it's all I can take for toni-"

He was about to continue, when Garrett reached past Corvo and pulled the lever again. Corvo saw something akin to satisfaction on his face as he watched Bunting get shocked again.

"We're _done, _I said, _retribution!" _Bunting practically wailed. "Now let me out."

"Pathetic," Garrett muttered, pulling the lever once more.

Whatever Bunting had gotten out of this kind of device before clearly wasn't doing anything for him now. He pulled against his bonds, attempting to see his would-be torturers through the blindfold.

"What the-? Who _is _this? What do you want?" Bunting asked.

"Your safe code," Garrett said simply. Corvo had the impression he was trying to hide his amusement.

As soon as Bunting realised what was going on, he sobered instantly.

"The safe, yes of course," he almost pleaded. "The combination is 138."

Corvo thought Garrett almost looked disappointed that he'd not had to work harder to get the combination.

"Take anything you find," Bunting continued. "I think I felt my heart skip."

"_Please," _Garrett muttered, reaching for the lever a final time. He and Corvo headed to the door while Bunting received his final shock.

"So," Corvo began, a grin forming behind his mask. "Was it good for you too?"

Garrett scowled, before carefully peering through the door. "It's clear," he said.

They crept back out into the hallway, finding the shadowy recess near the ceiling they'd first entered the brothel in.

"The only place I can think of to keep a child would be the upstairs rooms," Garrett said. "Out of sight of the public, and she'd have a tough time trying to get out. Downstairs is nothing but... rooms for acquired tastes," he said. He peered at the ceiling. "Now I look up there, I'm sure one of the people on the top floor is a child. They're sitting, so I can't be sure. Does your Emily wear white?"

Corvo nodded, recalling the outfit Emily had worn six months ago.

"Then it's probably her," Garrett concluded. "I don't think we've got any other business here. I can't feel anything connected to the stone, anyhow. And I don't think this one is built on an ancient archive."

In their search for Emily, Corvo had almost forgotten the ultimate reason for Garrett being by his side.

"How do you know where the stone would be?" he asked.

"I'd probably get a headache," Garrett shrugged.

They crept up the back stairs towards the room Garrett thought he had located Emily in, the only issue being a woman in the next room cleaning. Corvo quickly crept up behind her and rendered her unconscious – recalling Emily's boisterous nature he couldn't risk her inadvertently raising the alarm. He felt a pang of sympathy as he did so, knowing the girl would most likely face repercussions, but he knew he was unable to do anything for her other than spare her life.

Upon opening the door, Corvo was greeted with a sight he'd been unsure he'd ever see again. Emily was sat on the floor, legs drawn up against her chest. She looked thinner, tired, but otherwise physically seemed all right. She also seemed older, as if the weight of her mother's death had added years to her life. They probably had, Corvo reasoned. Witnessing the death of someone you loved was not easy, it was probably even harder for Emily, considering what had happened to her after.

Emily, for her part, stood up. Her voice was questioning, and slightly defiant. Corvo was reminded of her mother instantly.

"Who are you? Why are you wearing that mask?"

Motioning to Garrett to keep a lookout on the door, Corvo stepped forward, crouching and removing his mask, so she could see his face. He smiled, his first real smile in six months, as Emily recognised him.

"Corvo?" she asked, before she actually did realise it was him, and ran towards him. "Corvo, it's you!" He swept her into a hug, glad that he was able to restore this one part of his life. It was like some part of him that he'd not known was missing had been finally restored. And while the gap was still there, he knew _that _one would never be filled. But this, this was enough.

"You're wearing that mask to sneak around, aren't you?" she asked, before continuing without waiting for an answer. "They told me you were- you were- head chopped off, in the prison. Dead. Like mother." She was quiet for a moment. "That seems like a long time ago."

Behind him, Garrett coughed, drawing Corvo's attention.

"We shouldn't linger long," he said, adjusting his scarf slightly, before he peered down at the floor. "Someone will find the art dealer soon."

"Who's your friend?" Emily asked, staring at the strangely-dressed figure of Garrett.

"This is Garrett," Corvo told her. "He's a friend. Garrett, this is Emily."

Garrett didn't make a remark; he seemed to realise how important Emily was to him. Instead, he nodded to the girl. Corvo didn't think Garrett would be a man who would show anything akin to deference to Emily, but he clearly recognised this girl was of higher status than him.

"There's a special door to come and go," Emily said, "for special people. I'll show you. And if anyone tries to stop us, you can fight them."

Before either Corvo or Garrett could stop her, she had broken into a run, heading away from the room and toward the back stairs.

"_Really?" _Garrett asked, as they jogged to keep up, Corvo replacing his mask as they did so. Thankfully, they didn't meet anybody on the route Emily took them on, which was down the back stairs and out into a small backyard. She stopped at a door.

"It's locked," she lamented, futilely trying the handle. "Prudence, the old hag. She caught me trying to get away. Now she keeps the key with her. You've got the find the key so we can leave."

"No we don't," Garrett said from behind them. He stepped up to the door, crouching and removing a pair of items from hidden compartments on his wrists. They were thin, metallic, but other than that Corvo had no idea what they were meant for.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as Garrett inserted the devices into the lock, carefully manipulating them.

"Please tell me you've heard of lockpicks," Garrett muttered, peering at the lock. He turned one of the instruments slowly, carefully; he was clearly well-practised.

Corvo had heard of such devices, but he'd never heard of any having _worked. _If someone ever got their hands on what looked like the simple tools Garrett carried, they'd be worth a fortune.

"They... they don't exist," he admitted to the shorter man, who actually paused in his work to stare at Corvo in disbelief. "Nobody's ever made them work before."

"Which probably explains why this is only a three-pin lock," Garrett said, before sharply turning the devices and opening the door.

Even Emily gasped. Corvo was sure Garrett was smirking behind his scarf.

"Not a word," he said to the man as they passed through the doorway.

Outside, they found themselves in a covered over tunnel, but Corvo recognised the Weeper-infested street beyond it. He also recognised Granny Rags prowling nearby – clearly she'd made a home here after leaving her apartment. Garrett seemed particularly interested in her too, for he watched her carefully.

"You take Emily back to the boat," he said to Corvo. "I'll give the combination to Slackjaw."

Corvo was about to protest, but Garrett raised a hand. "I'll be fine," he said. "I made a living of this before I met you, you know. I've got my own tricks. Plus, you're her _Lord Protector," _he emphasised the words, clearly not out of reverence for the title, but the opposite. "She needs you to do _your _job."

Corvo sighed, before he agreed. "Fine," he said. "We'll wait for thirty minutes, however. If you're not back by then I'm coming to find you myself."

"I didn't know you cared," Garrett said, heading out into the street, carefully skirting the Weepers that were there.

"He's strange," Emily said, and Corvo smiled.

"He is," he agreed, before holding out his hand for her to take. "Come. We need to get back to Samuel and the boat. I think you'll like Samuel."

He carefully led her through the series of backstreets, making sure they avoided the Weepers and guards alike. It wouldn't do for the Masked Felon to be seen with the Empress' daughter, after all. What he _did _notice was that the small group of Whalers he and Garrett had disposed of on Bottle Street had gone. He also didn't see Garrett on his way back to Samuel, but the man was capable enough to not be seen by guards, he was sure of that.

Samuel was still waiting for them, and he rose when Corvo returned with Emily.

He gave a short bow. "I'm glad Corvo found you, my lady," he said. "We can all rest easy knowing you're safe. I'm Samuel," he said to her. "Corvo, you must have worked wonders out in the city tonight. I can't believe my old eyes."

"Thank you, Samuel," Corvo said, slightly humbled by the man's praise. Emily greeted him, before climbing into the boat and sitting down.

"Where's Garrett?" Samuel asked, although if Corvo were honest, the man didn't sound too concerned.

"He had business to take care of," Corvo told him. "I said we'd wait thirty minutes."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, with no sign of Garrett, Corvo was about to head back into the district and search for the missing thief. Before he could do anything, however, a shadow appeared at the far end of the path. It crept towards them, before finally revealing itself to be Garrett. Except now he carried a small bag with him.

"You _robbed_ the dealer?" Corvo questioned, suddenly seeing why Garrett had wanted to take the combination to Slackjaw.

"What, and you wouldn't have?" the man asked, carefully climbing into the boat next to Emily, placing the bag on his lap. "He asked for the combination, and I gave it to him, and he's getting rid of your _problems," _he emphasised the last word, clearly knowing that the sort of discussion wasn't appropriate in front of a child. "He never said about whether the safe should be empty or not. I left the paintings, anyway," he added. "Not that they were decent paintings."

Corvo was about to argue, before realising this was probably a battle he wasn't going to win. Instead, he sighed, taking his place in the boat and signalling to Samuel that it was high time they left the place.

_**A/N: I apologise for the overall lateness of this chapter. I bought and played new games, procrastinated, and went to a festival. You know how it goes. In any case, this chapter is twice as long as those that came before, simply because I didn't want to split the Golden Cat mission into two parts. I hope it makes up for the delay.  
The Eye, as I've so called it, works essentially like Corvo's "dark vision" power, albeit with a few extra enhancements. It speaks to him in a similar manner to The Heart.  
Hope you enjoyed**_** it!  
**_**Thanks once more to my Taffers for their help.**_


	4. Chapter 4

"What's wrong with your eye?"

Corvo could tell Garrett was regretting his choice in sitting next to Emily. Ever since leaving the shore she'd pestered him with questions, where he was from, how he knew Corvo, and what a _strange _outfit he had.

"I looked directly into the sun as a child," Garrett replied, somewhat distracted, shifting on his seat slightly.

"What's in your bag?" Emily continued questioning, clearly not perturbed. Garrett didn't seem willing to discuss _that _subject either, for he looked at Corvo like it was _his _fault she'd asked.

Fortunately, he was rescued, as Samuel pointed up the river.

"Look," he called. "They're bringing in another whale."

Corvo looked up, spotting the large whaling ship bringing in its latest haul, a whale of quite large size, chained to the deck. Emily seemed to be in awe of the massive creature, for she fell silent, watching it. Garrett, on the other hand, looked like he was about to be sick.

"Whales?" he asked. "What do you use those for?"

"Power." Surprisingly, it was Emily who spoke, sounding pleased that she'd remembered her studies. "Whale oil provides all the technological innovations for Dunwall. If we hadn't discovered it, we wouldn't be the ruler of a great industrial empire."

Garrett didn't seem convinced. His gaze was fixed on the whale, which was still alive, Corvo noticed. The man seemed to have trouble processing that everything that made Dunwall and the Empire great came from the great leviathans of the deep ocean. He wondered if things were different were Garrett came from; perhaps that was why he was so unsettled.

_They are burning the whales. _The Heart seemed neither sad nor happy about the fact, it just stated what was.

"What do you do with them?" Garrett asked.

"Harvest their oil, use it to power- well, just about everything," Corvo said. "Did you not see the containers of oil?" he asked.

"I did," Garrett admitted, "but I didn't know what was inside them."

He looked away from the whale, instead fixing his gaze on the bottom of the boat.

"I heard there was some trouble at the Rothwild Slaughterhouse," Samuel said. "Bundry Rothwild went missing, or something. I wonder where they'll take that one."

"There's more than one slaughterhouse in Dunwall," Corvo said, earning a nod of agreement from Samuel and an almost imperceptible shudder from Garrett.

"At least this explains why you're all so obsessed with whales," he mumbled, causing Corvo to smile.

Samuel also clearly saw Garrett was having trouble processing the notion of whale oil harvesting, for he changed the subject.

"You got the business done, then?" he asked. "I'm not one to speak of my betters, mind you, but if anybody ever deserved their fate it was those Pendletons."

"We'll see," Garrett said, even quieter than before, like he knew something Corvo didn't. Perhaps Slackjaw had told him his plans for the twins; he made a note to ask the thief once they got back to the Hound Pits. As if on cue, Samuel rounded a bend in the Wrenhaven, and the tower came into Corvo's view. He smiled softly to see his new home once again.

"What business are you talking about?" Emily asked.

Samuel seemed at a loss for words for a moment, before he spoke again. "Grown up business, girl," he began, and then remembered who exactly he was addressing. "I mean your ladyship. Forgive me."

Emily didn't particularly seem concerned. "It's okay," she almost laughed. "I heard a lot of grown up business at the Golden Cat."

At _that _statement, even Garrett looked up, sharing a look with Corvo which suggested amusement. Corvo narrowed his eyes, as if daring the man to make some snide comment. Fortunately, he didn't.

"I should concentrate on piloting this boat," Samuel said. Corvo saw Garrett had to bite his lip at that point.

Mercifully, they had arrived back at the Hound Pits, where Emily eagerly leaned over the side of the boat to see the shore. Garrett, sat next to her, didn't look so eager, especially with the way the boat tilted.

Corvo disembarked first, before offering his hand to Emily, hoping to provide some sense of normality from before. Or, that was what he told himself as Emily took his hand and allowed herself to be led to where Callista, Lydia and Wallace were waiting. No matter what Corvo did, the steps he took in order to restore order to Dunwall and give Emily her throne, the normality from before was gone. It disappeared with the Empress' life.

Still, now was not the time for such dark thoughts.

Callista addressed Emily, and although she was nervous talking to the future Empress, she hid it well. She even offered to give her a tour, but not before showing Emily the tower in which they would reside. Only accessible from one point, and that point being a window in Corvo's room, it was probably the safest place in the entire Hound Pits.

"I think I'll like it here," Emily said, before turning back. "I'll go with Callista, Corvo."

As Corvo bade her farewell, Havelock approached, only pausing to bow as Emily and her small entourage passed.

"You do not fail to impress," Havelock said to him, reaching out to shake his hand. "Armed with a blade, you've changed the course of this city forever."

Behind him, Garrett coughed. "Are you going to shake _my _hand too?" he asked.

"He _was _the one who actually finalised getting rid of the Pendletons," Corvo admitted, much more for Havelock's discomfort than anything else. Havelock was at a loss for words for a moment, before he set his jaw and held his hand out for Garrett.

Havelock's hand dwarfed Garrett's slender one, but the pair shook hands without comment. For a moment, Corvo had a sudden hope that perhaps the two would get on after all.

"I expect you'll want to check it for plague now," Garrett said, retracting his hand. "I'll understand."

The hope _had _only lasted for a moment after all.

Havelock was clearly reaching the end of his tether concerning the thief, for he turned back to Corvo. "With the Pendleton twins gone, our own Lord Pendleton will assume their votes in Parliament," he informed them. "In one night, you _both_," he emphasised the second word with a look to Garrett, "have done more than most men do in a lifetime."

He paused for a moment. "I need to speak to you soon, but for now Lord Pendleton requests your attention."

As Havelock moved away, Garrett turned to Corvo. "I need to speak to you about that," he said. His tone was serious, cold, like a man who had done a _lot _of thinking in the boat trip back to the Hound Pits.

"Do you know what Slackjaw told me when I gave him the combination?" Garrett asked, once they had moved away. "He told me that he was going to put the Pendletons to work in their own silver mines. Shave their heads, cut their tongues. That, eventually, they would die from being worked to death."

Corvo was about to respond, but Garrett held up his hand. "I'm under no illusions about what you have to do here, or what those two men were like. I understand your mission. What I _don't _understand is your justification for this. When we left the Overseers, you said your Empress championed justice. That, in casting out Campbell, you were doing just that."

Garrett sighed, looking away for a moment. Corvo, for his part, didn't speak, waiting for Garrett to finish.

"I abhor cruelty, or unnecessary death," he said, almost as if he were explaining himself. "When I saw that whale earlier, I-" he broke off for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm just trying to understand this place. I'm a thief, I operate on the wrong side of the law, but I _do _understand it. I understand justice. What you're doing, is- is it _truly _justice?"

Corvo could see this set of questions had eaten at Garrett for a while, most likely ever since he'd seen him press the brand to Campbell's face and sealed his fate. Corvo had tried not to think of what had become of him, and neither would he relish spending any time thinking of what happened to the Pendletons.

"You're right," he said eventually, voicing his fears somewhat. "I can call it justice all I want, but it isn't really. I'm exacting my revenge on the orders of someone else. Did you know Campbell ordered my torture in Coldridge?" he asked, rolling up his sleeve and showing Garrett the neat line of burn marks the torturer had left on his arm. "They were trying to get me to confess to the Empress' murder. Funny, considering _they _were the ones who ordered it. I had a long time to consider _that _irony."

He looked away for a moment, lost in dark thoughts and memories of that dank place. He'd decided not to tell Emily of the things he'd suffered in there for her name; for her mother's name. He rolled his sleeve down, facing Garrett again, who was watching him with an inscrutable expression.

"Havelock and the Loyalists are giving me the targets, but _I'm _the one who has to deal with them," he said. "And justice just doesn't factor in to this. I'm doing it in the name of Jessamine, but at times even I wonder if I act in her honour. Tell me this, though," he said. "If you were the one to hold the blade, could you _truly _kill them? Could you have killed the Pendleton twins in the Cat earlier?"

Garrett didn't say anything, but from his expression and earlier words, Corvo knew that he would have been unable to.

"I _can't _think that way," Corvo continued. "Not while things are as they are. If I spend all my time wondering whether putting a blade in Campbell's – and the Pendleton's – necks is better than what I've decided for them instead, I'd lose my mind.

"When you searched for Erin, an entire city fell down around you and you did nothing to stop it. Well, my city _is _falling down and I'm doing my _damndest_ to stop it. If some men die of something other than the plague, so be it," he finished. "But I'm giving them far more than they deserve in letting them live as long as they do."

It was a low blow, bringing up Erin, and Garrett's expression confirmed it to be so. Corvo knew any offer of solace or comfort would be turned away, as well as prove ineffective. Garrett knew his failings, as Corvo knew his own. They could only try to lessen the damage.

"Let's go find Pendleton," he said eventually, turning and heading up the steps. He could hear Garrett's light tread behind him, and while the man hadn't said anything Corvo was glad he followed still. Strangely, he'd grown rather accustomed to having two shadows.

Pendleton was stood under the tower, gazing out across the river to the city. The sun was sinking low on the horizon, tingeing the sky with reds and yellows, while once again resolutely turning the river's colour brown. Corvo could see why Pendleton had chosen here to look out onto the city; you could pretend that nothing was wrong.

Upon noticing their arrival, Pendleton turned to face them.

"Corvo," he began, notably leaving Garrett out of the conversation – the man didn't appear to notice, stepping past Pendleton and gazing out across the river. "The Loyalist Conspiracy thanks you for your work. I don't know if I can. My own brothers..."

Behind Pendleton, Corvo saw Garrett's hand clench into a fist, but he didn't speak.

"We never believed that you killed the Empress," Pendleton told him. "It made much more sense that the Royal Spymaster, now the Lord Regent, was behind it, aided by some of his key allies. We spent a lot of money and exposed ourselves to great risk in getting you out of prison. But we did it because we believe that you're the one that can make the difference." He turned to walk away, before pausing for a moment. "Oh, and Havelock's looking for you."

_For one so steeped in courtly matters, his thoughts do linger long on revenge and murder. _

Corvo reflected that the Heart's timing with _that _snippet of information could have been better, considering what he'd just done to Pendleton's brothers.

"You go talk to the admiral," Garrett said, still looking across the river. "I need to sort through this," he held up the bag he held loosely in his left hand. "I'll meet you back in your room."

Corvo decided that it was probably best he left Garrett alone, especially considering the subject of their last conversation. He was clearly in deep thought, for he'd barely paid attention to the bag of loot since he'd gotten in the boat.

Havelock was in the bar area with Martin, the pair were sat in one of the booths by the window.

"Where's your friend?" Martin asked as Corvo approached the table.

"He had some affairs to sort out," Corvo said simply. He didn't think it would be wise informing them that the professional thief had looted quite a prominent person's abode today. Or that he was now considering the full ramifications of what the Loyalists were doing.

"Indeed," Martin said. Corvo noticed that Havelock looked more relieved now that Corvo was on his own.

"Alright, my friend," he began. "Martin's devised our next move. There's a footnote in Campbell's journal that tells us the Lord Regent's mistress sat for a portrait with Sokolov, the painter and Royal Physician. He'll be able to give us her name."

Corvo had dealt with Sokolov many times before. Originally from Tyvia, he too was regarded with mild distaste by the rest of Court, although Corvo's abilities as Royal Protector had meant that not often did people comment on his own Serkonan heritage. He also recalled that Jessamine had seen that Sokolov hadn't been particularly fond of the nobility in Dunwall either, but had granted him a lot of freedom anyway. He briefly wondered if Sokolov had been involved in the plot to murder her, before discounting it entirely; he'd most likely lost more in her death than he would have ever gained, and his distrust of nobles meant that he would never have willingly gone along with Burrows' plans.

"Sokolov lives on Kaldwin's Bridge about half the time, out over the river," Havelock continued. "The catch is that I'm afraid you've got to head out right away, while Sokolov is at his apartment on the Bridge. Samuel can get you close to the Bridge, but you'll have to find Sokolov. Bring him back here, intact, and it'll enable us to make our next move."

Corvo had a moment to wonder what the rest of the Loyalists did while he and Garrett were out doing the dirty work for their cause. Their plans relied on Corvo's success, after all.

"I can't believe what you've done so far, escaping from Coldridge, taking down the High Overseer, recovering Emily. You make this old military man proud."

Corvo could have done without the final praise, but he supposed Havelock felt like it was necessary.

"I'll go find Garrett," he said, "tell him we're leaving."

"He's going with you?" Martin asked.

"Of course," Corvo replied. "He's good at what he does. He's _better _when it's dark, and, frankly, I don't trust to leave him here with you." He gave the pair a curt smile, before heading out of the bar and climbing to the stairs to his room.

Garrett was sat on his mattress, carefully arranging the items he'd taken from Bunting's apartment. Corvo spied a piece of paper that looked like an invitation, of all things, paired with a finely crafted mask that looked like a bird's beak. There was also a tiny whale statuette, inlaid with blue jewels. Other than that, the rest of the loot looked commonplace; a jar of medicinal herbs and two vials of Piero's Remedy for plague.

"_This _was in the safe too," Garrett said, reaching into the bag and pulling out an item. "I think you'll find it more useful than I will."

Surprisingly, it was a rune. The mark on it – identical to the one on Corvo's hand – glowed briefly as he took it.

"Bunting had strange tastes indeed," he remarked, as the rune's power dissipated, the object simply becoming an inert piece of whalebone once more. He looked at it for a few seconds more, before placing it onto the table.

"I should apologise," he began, somewhat awkwardly. "For what I said before. I- there's no excuse. I brought up things I shouldn't in order to make a point."

"You were right," Garrett said, much to his surprise. The man stood, carefully placing his stolen loot by the side of his mattress. Corvo wondered if it was to provide a sense of normality to him; it was similar to his display in the clock tower, if not as substantial. "I did let my city fall around me."

He laughed softly to himself. "There's a woman in my city called the Queen of Beggars. I wouldn't call her a friend, and there are some who say she's as old as the city. She visited me, before the end, or whatever you want to call it, and she said that the Primal had tried to talk to me, and I had ignored it. I had ignored Erin. I'd refused to take the responsibility she had placed on me, right up until I had all three pieces of the stone in my hands. And she was right. So were you. What you – what _we're – _doing here is to save a city, and I'm part of that. I won't ignore the warnings this time, even if it means I have to face some bad choices."

The pair was silent for a moment, before Corvo spoke up again, rapidly changing the subject.

"We need to head out again," he said. "We need to kidnap a physician and it can't wait."

"Is that why they took your mattress?" Garrett asked, nodding to the empty space on the bed. Corvo hadn't noticed it when he'd entered the room. He assumed the mattress had been taken to stop the possibility of plague, they had been to districts that had carried infected, after all, and they were _living _inside the quarantine.

"I'd put your things somewhere else in case they take yours too," he warned. In the end, Garrett placed his loot on top of one of the beams in the room, out of sight of anyone on the floor.

"Why are you keeping the invitation?" Corvo asked.

"I might get some time off. It'll be an easy way in if I have an invite to a party full of rich nobles." Corvo caught Garrett smiling slightly, and sighed.

"We're on a secret mission to restore the throne and you're planning to rob a party?"

* * *

"So who is this physician?" Garrett asked as Samuel took them along the Wrenhaven. "The name seems familiar."

"Sokolov is the head of the Academy of Natural Philosophy," Corvo explained. "As well as that, he's a painter and royal physician."

"A painter?" Garrett asked, before frowning. "I think I saw one of his in Bunting's safe. Not bad, but not exactly the best I've seen," he added. "Could sell well, though."

"Right," Corvo said. "Well, he's the man Piero is keen to subvert at any chance he gets, and he's also the one who created most of the city's defences. His apartment might prove difficult to get in to."

"If the lock on the door's anything like the one in the Golden Cat, I think we'll be fine," Garrett muttered, retrieving the small pot of kohl he kept on him and applying some to his eyes again. Corvo wondered if it was some ritual of his before a job.

"What do you think?" Samuel asked, as they passed under an arch. "Kaldwin's Bridge. You've been in the city for years, Corvo, but you lived in Dunwall Tower with the late Empress, and Garrett here has barely been inside a single district, so you've probably not visited Kaldwin's Bridge before tonight."

"Last time I was on a bridge like this, it caught fire and collapsed," Garrett said.

"Is there _anywhere _that doesn't catch fire near you?" Corvo asked. "I've half a mind to leave you in the boat."

"Something to look out for," Samuel warned, cutting off Garrett's response. "See them lights in the water? We'll be spotted for sure. You're gonna have to shut of their power before I can pick you up."

"They shouldn't be a problem," Corvo said.

"Now about bringing Sokolov back alive," Samuel continued. "He's smart. Maybe even smarter than Piero. Got the whole of Dunwall under his thumb with all that natural philosophy business. New technology, potions and the like. Seems dangerous to me, but what do I know?" he asked as he stopped the boat at the base of the bridge.

"Probably more than most of the city," Garrett said as they disembarked. Samuel gave a small chuckle.

"I'll meet you both at the arches under Sokolov's place. Assuming you've turned the lights off, of course."

After bidding their farewells to Samuel, the pair carefully mounted the steps towards street level, wary of any patrolling guards.

_"Citizens and visitors to our city, by order of the Regent, the curfew is now active. No foot traffic allowed across Kaldwin's Bridge until curfew is lifted. Attention all citizens: No pedestrian movement is allowed along Kaldwin's Bridge during this period. Curfew will end tomorrow morning, at sunrise."_

The announcement rang out above them, and Garrett smirked.

"My kind of challenge," he said, pulling up his scarf.

The bridge was already heavily patrolled, and Corvo also spied an alarm system. If they were spotted it would be activated, and no doubt draw a lot more guards to their position. Interestingly, Corvo also spotted a few posters near the guard post, one for a masked felon wanted in connection with the disappearance of the Pendletons. He was under no illusions it was for him, there was even a picture of his mask – no doubt provided by the Overseer Garrett had knocked out. Burrows had clearly seen the connection between Campbell's branding and the loss of Emily and the twins. In addition, there was another poster for a "masked miscreant", which he pointed out to Garrett.

"Looks like they got a good sketch of your face in the Overseer base," he whispered. "You're 'wanted for possible heresy and escaping Overseer custody'," he added.

Garrett frowned. "Heresy? They couldn't think of anything better than heresy?" He almost sounded disappointed.

"I won't tell you how much coin you're worth then," Corvo replied, seeing it was a mere five thousand coins.

Garrett snorted, before indicating a chain to their right. "If we swing across here, we can get to those stairs and up to rooftop level using the vent," he said.

The chain creaked slightly as they moved across it, but it didn't alert the guards, who were busy discussion appropriate measures of punishment for those breaking curfew. Over the past six months the punishments had gotten worse, the Watch reflecting the decay of society around it.

They halted behind a sign, which shielded them from any guard who would be curious enough to look up (Corvo had yet to see one), peering around at the group below.

"The main door is blocked," Corvo noted aloud, Garrett nodding. He was watching the guards carefully, following the patrolling ones with his keen gaze.

"There's another door over there," he said eventually, indicating further along the bridge.

"You can see it?" Corvo asked, wondering if the Outsider's gift was now more giving.

"No, I just watched the guards' patrols," Garrett said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He regarded Corvo for a moment. "I forgot a lot of this is new for you. You're doing quite well," he added. "Anyway, they patrol in regular intervals, except for _that _guard over there," he indicated the man. "He has no reason to go to that ledge and look out on the river, unless he were guarding a door or checking the side of the bridge for people scaling it. The bridge isn't exactly the easiest to climb, so it makes more sense that there's a door there."

Corvo was silent for a moment, fathoming Garrett's words, before realising he was probably right. He _did _have a lot more experience at this sort of thing, after all.

"Well," he began, "that means he's the only thing standing in our way, really."

Garrett nodded his agreement. He crept along the vent, keeping low and watching the guards carefully. Corvo followed behind, and soon they were crouched behind another sign.

"Think you can take him out without any of the others seeing?" Garrett asked, as the guard approached the railing.

With a quick glance to the patrolling guards, Corvo blinked behind the man, rendering him unconscious and dragging him to a nearby trash bin. A trash bin that happened to be situated by a door; he scowled at it as he deposited the man inside the bin. Garrett, meanwhile, had edged his way down to Corvo's side, apparently even going as far to walk across the small hut a guard was stood in.

Corvo got the sense that Garrett was smirking as he opened the door, before stepping aside. "After you," he said.

"Don't push it," Corvo muttered, passing through. They came to a set of stairs, which they swiftly climbed. The room they were in looked as though it was one where transports across the bridge were made – a small monorail system featured with a door that opened onto the causeway. Garrett peered through the railings.

"Looks like we might be able to skirt an entire patrol if we use this," he said. "It needs power, though," he said.

"Up there," Corvo pointed to the canisters of whale oil, their faint glow reflecting off the metal catwalk. Garrett frowned at them, but made no comment; he was probably recalling where the oil actually came from. Corvo quickly blinked to them, gently picking up one of the canisters. Thankfully, his powers didn't affect the substance too much, and he gingerly placed it inside the receptacle.

"The oil's volatile," he said, by way of explanation, as the system powered up and the gate opened with a loud rattle.

By reflex, both he and Garrett stepped back into the shadows, in case a guard happened to look up at their position. After a few seconds, Garrett stepped forward again. "I don't think they noticed," he said. "They might notice if we use this more than once, though," he added.

"The Golden Cat really _did _do a number on you, didn't it?" Corvo asked, raising an eyebrow behind his mask. He climbed into the bucket, noticing Garrett's sour look as he joined him. Thankfully, it wasn't too uncomfortable. Garrett's small stature meant that it was unlikely to be cramped.

"Ready?" Corvo asked, before reaching out and pulling the lever.

Crouched in the bucket, Corvo couldn't see if any of the guards were paying attention to their movement across the causeway. Garrett appeared to be keeping an eye on them, however. That or he was just staring at the floor in order to not look at Corvo. Either way, the cart soon stopped moving, and they cautiously climbed out onto the catwalk, ducking behind a stack of boxes to hide from the guards.

"That way," Corvo said, indicating the door that led further out onto the bridge. Normally the passage would have been open, but the curfew negated the possibility of anybody needing to travel across the bridge. Carefully watching the guards, both he and Garrett skirted the patrolling guards and into a tunnel-like section which would take them to Drawbridge Way.

The courtyard was less patrolled than the previous one; Corvo spotted a single guard talking to a homeowner. The man – named Pratchett – apparently needed to be educated on why the Watch was needed, _especially _in times like this. From what Corvo had seen of the Watch of the past week (and the ease in which he'd skirted a lot of them), he could see why Pratchett might have been worried. Further down the street, a dog patrolled – one of the wolfhounds commonly used by Overseers. Corvo didn't spot an Overseer, however, and considering they were still dealing with Campbell's deposition, it was unlikely an Overseer was around.

The pair crouched behind a barricade, out of sight of the dog, and listened to the conversation between Pratchett and the guard. It seemed that Pratchett was finding a way to survive in the tough times. The guard seemed to agree, especially considering the amount of items that apparently travelled through Sokolov's place.

Eventually, the pair moved off, and Garrett peered out from behind the barricade to watch the guard leave.

"I can get us to his balcony," Corvo said, nodding to Pratchett's house.

"You know," Garrett began once they were stood on the balcony. "With you around I wonder why I even carry all my equipment. You negate about half of it."

"It pays to be prepared, surely?" Corvo asked.

"I didn't say I was going to stop bringing it," Garrett replied, carefully opening the door to Pratchett's house.

They entered quietly, acutely aware of the resident on the floor below, before Garrett motioned he was climbing the stairs and that Corvo should hold back. There wasn't room for him to get behind the man without being unseen, and he wasn't particularly thrilled with the notion of going back outside and re-entering the house from below in case the guard – or the wolfhound – were near.

Garrett stood behind the door, and Pratchett had a split-second to look at Corvo upon entering the room before Garrett's blackjack impacted on the back of his head and knocked him out.

"What was that you were saying about your equipment?" Corvo asked as they dragged him to a nearby chair, propping him up.

"Like you wouldn't have been able to improvise," Garrett retorted.

They slowly climbed the stairs, Garrett taking a keen interest in their surroundings as they did so. When they reached the top floor, he stopped, eyeing the safe in Pratchett's room.

"It's not like you know the combination," Corvo told him. "We can't wait around for Pratchett to wake up so you can interrogate him for it."

"No," Garrett agreed, stepping over to a desk and reading a scrawled note. "But we might not have to. Remember what I said earlier about safecracking?"

"You either need a boxman or hope the owner's an idiot."

"Lucky for us, Pratchett's an idiot," Garrett said, skilfully spinning the dials on the safe. With a faint creaking sound, it opened, revealing its contents to the pair. Corvo had to try not to gape as Garrett examined its contents.

"Ingots, very nice," he said, carefully removing one and examining it. "I'll only have to take one," he added, somewhat mournfully. "Too heavy otherwise." He cast a look at Corvo.

"No."

Garrett sighed. "Fine," he muttered.

"How did you know the combination?" Corvo asked, still wondering how Garrett had managed it on the first try.

"Oh. His note here said 'the truth is in the paintings'," Garrett said, gesturing to the piece of paper. "On our way up here I noticed some of the paintings had numbers hidden in them. Badly, I should add. Pratchett thought he was being clever, but it's the oldest trick in the book, and frankly not very challenging."

Corvo was silent for a moment. "Let's just get to the spotlights," he said finally. He thought he heard Garrett laughing behind him.

The stairs in Pratchett's house led out to the roof, where Corvo got a view of the river Wrenhaven, as well as a man on the balcony of the house opposite. Judging by his shouts and ravings, he'd been driven mad, probably by plague. When the man stepped back inside the apartment, Corvo paused, listening.

The Heart had started to beat again.

For a moment, he didn't say anything, instead focusing on the source of the noise, which looked as though it were the madman's apartment.

"We should go in there," he said to Garrett, who looked up, frowning.

"Why? We can just use the balcony to head past."

"I think there's a rune inside the apartment," Corvo replied. "I _know _there is. They could be useful to me later on."

"What do they actually _do?" _Garrett asked. "I gave it to you because it bore the same mark as you, but you didn't really explain it."

"They augment the powers given to me by the Outsider. I think if I collect enough I might be able to do more. Although I'm not sure what."

"So how do you know there's one in the apartment?" Garrett asked.

"The Heart," Corvo said simply. "It does more than tell me secrets. It also tells me when a rune is near. The Outsider clearly wanted me to find them."

Garrett didn't say anything, before he sighed. "Fine," he agreed. "But you're dealing with the lunatic. I saw enough Gloomers to know he's probably infected with something and I'm _not _catching it."

Rendering the madman unconscious was easy enough and soon Garrett and Corvo were both gazing on what was most likely the source of his ravings.

"A shrine?" Garrett questioned, eyeing the scrawled words on the walls: _The Outsider walks among us. _"Just when I thought your friend wasn't audacious enough."

"He doesn't make the shrines," Corvo said. "But I'm pretty certain they are some of the only places he can manifest in this world."

"What do you mean?" Garrett asked.

"Watch." Corvo reached out and took the rune; its power flared for a moment, and the Outsider emerged from a jet-black vortex.

"Rivers change course over many lifetimes," he began, "and eventually all bridges tumble down. A thousand years ago there was another city on this spot. The people carved the bones of whales into runes and inscribed them with my Mark. Children still find them washed up in the river-mud."

The pair were silent, listening to the Outsider speak, although Corvo could tell Garrett wasn't impressed so far.

"Anton Sokolov has made a great study of my runes, but he's not special like you are, Corvo," the Outsider said. "Nor is he necessary, like you, Garrett. He wasn't chosen and he doesn't wear my Mark, so he can't unlock their secrets. Sokolov believes there are specific words and acts that can compel me to appear before him. He searches old temples in Pandyssia and ruined subbasements in the Flooded District. He performs disgusting rituals beneath the old Abbey. But if he _really _wants to meet me, he could start by being a bit more interesting."

With his final, parting words, the Outsider faded from view.

Garrett was the first to speak. "He _really _loves to be dramatic. I've half a mind to tell this Sokolov to stop wasting his time looking for him."

"He probably wouldn't listen," Corvo said, as the rune crumbled to ash in his hand. They all did that, some of them faster than others. He wondered if the power bound to them for so long was the only thing keeping the whalebone together. As soon as Corvo absorbed it – or whatever it was he did, he wasn't all _that _sure and the Outsider wasn't the kind to give detailed explanations – it faded and the bone crumbled after succumbing to a thousand years' worth of decay.

They moved back out onto the balcony, scaling the wall to a vent nearby. Using various overhangs and ledges, they traversed the next series of rooftops quickly, before coming to an overlook. As soon as Corvo spotted what lay on the bridge in front of them, he cursed.

"Shit, an arc pylon."

"I assume that's the tall electrical thing?" Garrett asked, gesturing to the pylon. "What does this one do?"

Before Corvo could answer, the pair became aware of a commotion below them. Two men, clearly not Watch Guards, were in a heated discussion, apparently about a friend of theirs who'd been caught breaking curfew.

What they did next was like some cruel joke.

They made their way out into the open, clearly with the idea that they would overpower or push through the Watch Guards in order to reach their comrade. Instead, the arc pylon cruelly and spectacularly came to life. Beside him, Garrett flinched as the two men were vaporised instantly, similar to the arrow on the Wall of Light earlier that day. Only these were two living beings, turned to dust in an instant. A Wall of Light could be avoided. An arc pylon could track a moving target at ten feet.

Corvo didn't say anything; instead watching the guards (immune to the pylon's deadly charge) laugh and put away their swords. They'd barely reacted to the so-called attack. Next to him, he heard Garrett draw in a deep, steadying breath, almost as if he were trying to hold onto his stomach. Corvo realised, with a grimace, that this was probably the first time he'd seen such a device in action. And after his previous statements about unnecessary death, _this _probably wasn't the best example of Dunwall justice. A quick glance at Garrett showed that the man's expression (or what he could see in his eyes) was a mix between revulsion and worry.

Garrett caught his gaze. "We should move on," he said, voice even. Corvo wondered what exactly was going through his mind, but he nodded his assent.

He cast his gaze onto the bridge, trying to work out how to get to the searchlight controls without attracting the attention of either the guards or the arc pylon. Garrett too, seemed to realise that was what caused the hesitation, for he narrowed his eyes at the two guard posts on either side of the causeway – in the day they most likely served as a checkpoint.

"The supports," he began, indicating with his hand the large cables. "They could support our weight. If we move quickly and quietly we can get onto the bridge using them."

Corvo looked warily at the supports. While they didn't actually move, he wasn't _that _sure if he would depend on their strength. Garrett seemed to realise his trepidation.

"We'll take separate ones," he said. "You drop me on the guard post on the left, you go to the one on the right, and we climb separately. If you're _that _worried, I'll go first up mine. I'm lighter, and you can spot for trouble."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've climbed less stable things and come out unscathed," he said.

"There probably wasn't an arc pylon waiting at the bottom, though," Corvo mumbled, before placing his hand on Garrett's arm and transporting them to the guardhouse.

Corvo had been unsure of Garrett's plan, and as soon as he stepped onto the cable he was even _less _sure. Garrett, for his part, looked as though he'd been born to slither along the thing. He moved expertly and quickly, gripping with his feet and hands alternately. Corvo was once more reminded of a cat, the grace in which he moved.

Corvo gritted his teeth as he moved, making sure he didn't place a foot wrong. He was glad Garrett _had _suggested this method, however, as he spotted another arc pylon the bridge. Eventually the cable became too steep for Corvo to step on, and while Garrett had simply changed his position and clambered up to the top, Corvo neither had the confidence nor stamina to climb at the sharper angle. Instead, he transported himself to a stairwell on the side of the bridge, quickly moving to the top where Garrett waited for him.

"That could have been worse," he finally admitted. Garrett huffed out a quiet laugh, eyeing the bridge in front of them.

"If we cross that walkway, we'll get spotted for sure," he said. Corvo nodded his assent, before looking at the bridge above them. Through the network of tangled metal and chains, he could see the top of the bridge above them. He sighed, muttering a curse to himself. Using the cables had been bad enough, _now _they were going to have to go to the very top of the bridge to get across the damned thing. He inwardly wondered if Samuel had actually _tried _to get them close.

"It's my understanding you lived in a tower," Garrett said as they climbed to the top of the bridge. "Why are you this worried about heights?"

"It's not the height," Corvo replied, noting that the higher they climbed, the colder the metal was. The wind was also stronger here, but not enough to severely hinder them. "It's more the precarious ledges and oily cables," he continued. "I've no desire to fall to my death."

"You're blessed with supernatural abilities that you can use to transport yourself across great distances," Garrett began as they climbed a chain, and then hauled themselves on to the top of the bridge. "I got the gift of _sight," _he said.

They stood for a moment, simply admiring the view of Dunwall and the rest of the bridge before them, before carefully picking their way across struts and beams. Garrett led the way; Corvo trusted the man's judgement to not lead them astray.

_Many seek the Bridge for solace. Ruined men, abandoned women, and plague victims have all leapt from here. _

Corvo wondered if the Outsider was the one to trigger the Heart's soft statements. It would explain why certain pieces of information came to Corvo at the most inappropriate of times. Apparently, his thousands of years in the Void had warped his sense of humour. If he'd ever had one in the first place.

Thankfully, their trip across the top of the bridge was fairly quick, and soon they were carefully descending the metal struts to a more reasonable level again.

"Look," he said to Garrett, spotting their objective. "The lights."

The lights were powered by two containers of whale oil, and while they were caged in, the door wasn't locked. Corvo was glad; they didn't have to risk looking for a key that was most likely held by a guard on the far side of the bridge. Corvo quickly removed them, and after a few seconds thought, hurled them into the waters of the Wrenhaven.

"Do you seriously think they won't just replace the tank if we leave it sitting neatly on the floor here?" he asked, catching Garrett's look. The man sighed, instead looking away, narrowing his eyes at the buildings on the far end of the bridge.

"Sokolov's over there somewhere?" he asked, Corvo nodding his assent.

"I've not been his apartment, but he's famous for living on this side of the bridge. And most likely everyone else will have moved elsewhere due to plague, he'll probably be the only one living here."

Garrett moved to the edge, overlooking the roadway far below them.

"We could take this cable down," he said, "and then go to the foundation level using that overhang," he pointed to the object in question.

Corvo was glad Garrett couldn't see his expression, but apparently the thief picked up on his unease anyway, for he reached into his quiver and pulled out one of the rope arrows. He carefully took aim, firing the arrow so it lodged in a metal crossbeam. The hook-like end snapped shut, and Corvo could see that they would not open without a tool of some sort. The rope dangled over the edge of the bridge and onto the cable, meaning they could abseil (somewhat) safely down onto a more reasonable slope.

"Do you want me to go first?" Garrett asked, his tone almost mocking. Corvo scowled, before taking the rope.

"No," he said. "If I fall I'll need you to get the other end of the rope secured."

"Just be glad I'm stronger than I look," Garrett muttered, but he braced the rope all the same.

Once he found himself dangling hundreds of feet above a waterway, Corvo realised that his descent wasn't so bad after all. He quickly shimmied down the rope, and when he'd found stable footing on the cable, he signalled to Garrett to join him. He _did _notice that Garrett moved with a much greater ease and finesse than he did, but he didn't comment. His ego was insufferable enough already.

Perched on the cable, they carefully made their way to the road, darting off to the side at the last minute to avoid patrolling guards. Thankfully, there was an unpatrolled path along the bottom of the bridge. After a second, Corvo saw _why _guards weren't there. He threw a hand out, stopping Garrett in his tracks by some crates.

"What is it _now?" _the man asked. "Something that evaporates my flesh again?"

"No," Corvo began. "River Krusts."

"By all the gods, old and new, _what _is a River Krust?" Garrett asked, exasperated. "And _why _is it so deadly?"

"They're reputed to contain very valuable pearls, but they'll also defend it by firing extremely toxic chemical poisons at you. You either blow the thing up, or stay out of range."

Garrett peered down the passage, spotting one of the Krusts.

"We're going to be attacked by a violent _oyster?" _he hissed, wary of the guards above them.

Corvo frowned. "What's an oyster?" he asked. If it was anything like a River Krust, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Food," Garrett said shortly. "If you're lucky, they have pearls. Never found one myself, and I tend to go for jewellery made from pearls rather than the actual oyster."

"People _eat _them?" Corvo asked. He'd heard of some people once trying to eat a River Krust. It hadn't turned out well for them.

"The ones we have don't attack you upon approach," Garrett retorted. "How do we get past them?"

"Right," Corvo agreed, glad they were back at the task in hand. He peered at the Krusts.

"We could blow them up," he said eventually. "Do you have one of your explosive arrows?"

"Only if you want to bring an entire guard patrol down here."

"Well, then we're just going to have to run. Unless you'd rather go to the roadway and welcome the patrol yourself."

Garrett nodded, before gesturing to Corvo. "You go first," he said. "So I can actually _see _what's going to attack me."

Corvo had encountered River Krusts a few times before. He remembered them as a child on Serkonos, and more recently while travelling on the Empress' orders. They were as repulsive as ever, attempting to fire their acrid poison at him as soon as he sprinted past. Fortunately, he was quick, and made it out of range without being hit once.

Garrett followed, the shorter man making a smaller target. He was more agile, too, and dodged the hurled projectiles with ease. Joining Corvo on the stairs, he eyed them with distaste.

"I think I prefer oysters," he said.

"Why would anyone eat such a thing?" Corvo asked as they made their way to a gate. It was locked, but Garrett was soon in the process of fixing that, crouching and taking out his lock picks.

"They have aphrodisiac qualities, I'm told," he said, carefully manipulating the lock, before opening the gate and peering out. Corvo made a face behind his mask. He didn't think the benefits would be all that worth it.

They made their way along the street, before coming to a door that lead to the Midrow Substation, and hopefully Sokolov's residence. It occurred to Corvo they were running out of Bridge.

They entered a building, climbing the stairs and exiting through an open window so as to overlook the street. This area was heavily patrolled, and Corvo could see a Wall of Light blocking access to the far end with no way around it.

"This might get complicated," he said.

Eventually, with some skilful trickery on Garrett's part and no small amount of luck, they had managed to disable the Wall of Light and creep past the veritable squadron of guards at the substation. Corvo almost laughed with relief, before realising they were still close to guards' hearing, so remained silent instead.

Finally they reached another inhabited area, although there were so many buildings falling into disrepair from plague it was difficult to imagine the place bustling with people.

"This is like the Audale Bridge," Garrett commented. "The one that caught fire," he added.

"How did you set it on fire?" Corvo asked.

"It wasn't me," Garrett protested. "I was just trying to outrun a mob of Graven."

They quickly entered a building, using the interior stairwell to climb to the rooftop.

They stood on the roof overlooking several dilapidated buildings. Corvo also spotted a group of people held behind a Wall of Light – a rudimentary prison, but effective. He assumed they were test subjects for Sokolov. Apparently the man didn't have access to Weepers, unlike his rival Piero. Or he just wasn't brave enough to face them.

"I never asked," Garrett began, carefully watching the guards and prisoners. "Why are we kidnapping this Sokolov?"

"He painted a portrait of the Lord Regent's mistress," Corvo answered. "She's most likely supplying him with money, so we need to cut him off from his funds. _And _his lover."

Garrett didn't reply, instead listening to the guards' distant conversation about Sokolov's reason for having healthy test subjects. Corvo felt a pang of sympathy for them, but knew they wouldn't be able to free them without causing a _lot _of attention to themselves. They were kidnapping Sokolov, anyway, as soon as they realised the natural philosopher was gone the prisoners would most likely be released. He hoped.

It wasn't far to Sokolov's house – easily identified by the small squadron of guards and the ostentatious design of the building, almost jarring with the collapsed buildings around it. At least it granted Sokolov his privacy.

"Up on the roof," Garrett said, pointing to a walkway. "Single guard, regular patrols, _and _a chain."

They clambered across several partially demolished buildings until they were level with the roof.

"One guard outside," Garrett said. "A man inside and-" he trailed off, frowning. "A woman, I think. Sat down."

Corvo drew his crossbow, taking careful aim at the patrolling guard. It wouldn't do for the man to fall over the side of the railing. After a few seconds, he stopped, and Corvo fired, hitting the man in the neck with a sleep dart. He smiled to himself, pleased with his aim, as Garrett lightly leapt onto the chain and swung onto the roof.

They crouched beneath a shuttered window, working their way to the door.

The building was a greenhouse, situated on the top of the building where it got the most light. The smell of plants was a vast contrast to the brine-and-oil scent of the river outside. For a second, Corvo was almost distracted by it. Thankfully, the man inside didn't notice their entrance, too absorbed in recording an audiograph at his desk. Sokolov – for it was indeed him – didn't appear to have any hope for his test subject, a woman in a cage on the far side of the room.

It was all too easy to creep up behind the man and render him unconscious. He quickly took a key that was hanging on the man's belt and tossed it to Garrett.

"Let her out," he said, gesturing to the woman in the cage.

Garrett complied – the woman stared at them with wide eyes as Corvo hoisted Sokolov onto his shoulder.

"Thank you, whoever you are," she said. Corvo was surprised at her level of calm. "He kept me in a cage, like an animal," she added. Corvo could see Garrett eyeing the man on his shoulder with an even greater level of distaste, but he stepped past him and began examining the work on the desk and the surrounding area.

"The pain is horrible right now," she said to Corvo, "so I'll just hide in a corner and leave when I'm feeling better."

"Don't stay too long," Garrett warned her, still looking over Sokolov's work. "The guards will get suspicious soon."

He took a step towards Corvo, before wincing and pressing a hand to his Primal-enhanced eye.

Corvo saw him frown as he looked at one of troughs of plants. Slowly, he stepped forward, parting a fern and plucking a flower. It was a poppy, one of the strange white and blue ones he'd only seen once before in the Void; Garrett had later told him of their connection to the Primal.

If one was _here, _then it wasn't a very big step to assume the stone was nearby. Corvo hadn't spotted anything unusual, and certainly not a glowing blue stone that would match Garrett's description. Garrett, for his part, crushed the flower in his hand, before crouching and running his hands along the edge of the trough.

"What are you _doing?" _Corvo hissed, well aware of their time constraints. "This is not the time to go feeling round a flowerbed."

Even the girl they'd freed looked surprised as Garrett found an invisible switch. With a click, the _entire _top of the trough slide away, revealing stacks of documents and audiograph cards.

"Keep a lookout," Garrett told him, carefully sorting through the files. Corvo huffed, adjusting Sokolov's limp form on his shoulder, glad that the man wasn't too heavy. He wasn't as heavy as Campbell, anyway. Still, he kept a careful watch on the door, carefully listening for sounds of any guards. Behind him, he heard Garrett rustling through the papers, carefully searching the box.

"It's not here," he said, after a few minutes. Corvo turned to see him scanning a piece of paper, numerous others stuffed into a sack he carried – the same sack he'd put loot from Bunting's safe in. Corvo wondered where he'd kept it, before judging that there must be something under his cloak and attached the harness-like item he wore. Corvo also spotted a large number of audiograph cards in the sack, too.

"What's not here?" Corvo asked.

"The stone shard," Garrett replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It _was _here, but he's written that someone took it from him yesterday. _Yesterday. _Those poppies only grow when they're in close proximity, and it was here._"_

"We'll ask him when we get him back," Corvo said – this was _not _the place for a conversation. "We need to leave," he pressed.

Before Garrett could answer, the door behind them opened.

"Mr Sokolov, I-" the guard began, before stopping dead and taking in the scene before him. Garrett, with his bag of Sokolov's notes. Corvo, holding the physician on his shoulder.

"You've made your point," Garrett called, hurling his sack of papers at the guard, causing him to fumble while he caught it. As he did so, Garrett vaulted over the plant trough, bringing out his blackjack and bringing it down on the guard's head. It connected with his helmet with an audible clang, but it did bring the guard to his knees, stunning him.

"Can you run with him?" Garrett asked, indicating Sokolov. He fixed his gaze on the floor, most likely using his enhanced vision to watch below them. Corvo gave his assent, adjusting the unconscious man on his shoulder. "Good, there's four more coming up after I just rang the dinner bell here." He struck the kneeling guard again, pitching him to the floor and knocking him out. "You should leave while they're distracted," he called to the girl in the corner, before picking up his sack and heading out onto the balcony.

They moved quickly, shouts of the guards echoing behind them. As they reached the chain they'd previously used, a bullet pinged off the floor next to Corvo's boot. Garrett needed no further encouragement, simply leaping to the chain and swinging to the next building. A few papers fluttered down to the road far below them. Corvo hoped they weren't important. When Garrett was clear, Corvo simply used the power given to him by the Outsider, to the shock of their pursuers.

While the guards were distracted by Corvo's teleportation, he and Garrett bounded over a roof, heading for the other side of the bridge.

"Over there," Corvo pointed, indicating an overhang near a stairwell that led to the river. Garrett nimbly leapt from the rooftop, landing on the overhang – it creaked, but did not move. As soon as he'd moved to the floor, Corvo joined him, and they quickly jogged down the stairs to where Samuel was waiting by the boat.

Far above them, shouts of the pursuit continued. Thankfully, Samuel was under an arch, out of sight of those on the bridge above. Corvo carefully placed Sokolov into the boat, and then removed a sleep dart from a small pouch he kept his crossbow ammunition in. He stuck it into the physician's neck, ensuring he didn't wake up on their trip back.

"Let's go," he said, he and Garrett climbing into the boat. The thief was silent; holding onto his sack of papers like it was a lifeline. He looked up at the bridge above them as Samuel piloted them out onto the river. Thankfully, they weren't spotted; Samuel skilfully moved them away and out of sight before any guard even thought to look down at the river.

* * *

The sun had set by the time they'd returned to the Hound Pits, and Corvo got to fully appreciate what Garrett would be like in the dark. It was like sitting next to a shadow – albeit a shadow with a glowing eye. He'd not said anything on the way back; it appeared to Corvo he was deep in thought, most likely about the stone and Sokolov's involvement with it.

"They set up a cell for Sokolov in the old kennel," Samuel began, seemingly aware of the silence. "Shackles and everything," he added. "It'll be a shock, him waking up in the straw and old dog poop."

"He'll get used to it," Corvo muttered, removing his mask. He darkly recalled his time in Coldridge.

"From what I hear, he's woken up in worse places. Guess we all have, at that." Samuel appeared to realise Corvo's meaning. Even Garrett nodded his agreement.

They pulled up to the shore, where Havelock and Martin stood watching them. Corvo noticed the latter to be intently watching them, arms crossed over his chest.

"Well done, gentlemen," Havelock said as they stepped ashore. Corvo noticed the inclusion of Garrett in the praise. "I doubt a dozen soldiers could have done it better."

"From the sounds of the guards when we left, I'm sure they could," Samuel spoke up.

"We lingered too long," Corvo said, simply. "We made a clean exit," he added, reassuring the pair of Loyalists before him. "They don't know we're here."

"Good," Martin said.

"Sokolov's knowledge will enable us strike at the Lord Regent directly, and ultimately help you get your life back," Havelock said. "Soon, we won't _have _to hide in the shadows."

Garrett made a small noise at that comment, but he didn't speak up. Corvo mused that his profession entailed just that, hiding in dark corners and waiting for the right moment. The missions they'd conducted today alone must have been widely against Garrett's usual style_, _yet he'd joined Corvo anyway. Still, the alternative was staying at the Hound Pits, finding nothing and most likely aggravating Havelock and the others to the point of being shot, or worse. Corvo didn't think the Outsider would be too pleased with _that _outcome.

"The Royal Physician is brilliant, but he was a fool to protect the Lord Regent," Havelock continued. "Sokolov gave us the elixir, the war machines – he could have made us a great nation. Now he pays the price for siding with a tyrant."

"_He _made those- those _things?" _Garrett asked. "The pylons, and Walls of Light?"

"He did," Corvo confirmed.

Garrett's expression darkened and he cast a glance at the unconscious man in the boat. Corvo also noticed his hand gripped the sack a little tighter.

"Makes me wonder what he planned to do with-" he broke off suddenly, realising the company they were stood in. "With other things," he eventually said, keeping his tone even, clearly making sure that Havelock or Martin didn't try and press him further.

"Tell me," Martin said, apparently trying anyway. "Why did you feel the need to bring Sokolov's research?" He nodded to the sack, where some paper and an audiograph card were just visible through the opening.

"I like to read," Garrett said, voice curt. He folded his arms, holding the sack firmly against his chest.

"If you two wish to get some sleep, now is a good time," Havelock said, clearly seeing the lost battle in asking Garrett further questions.

"Thank you," Corvo said. "I think I'll go check on Emily first."

Havelock inclined his head, and he and Martin left them, heading up the stairs to the pub.

"I'll get Mr Sokolov here set up in his new accommodation," Samuel said. "If you see Wallace, tell him to give me a hand, will you?" he asked.

"We will," Corvo said. "Coming?" he asked Garrett.

Before Garrett could reply, an announcement rang out over one of the propaganda loudspeakers that were in every district:

_"Attention Citizens: This evening the streets adjacent to Pendleton Manor will be closed for a private ceremony following the tragic loss of two of our city's best and brightest, the Lords Custis and Morgan Pendleton. All holdings and Parliamentary votes now fall to Lord Treavor Pendleton, who asks for respect during this time of mourning."_

Corvo caught a flicker of expression across Garrett's face, but he hid it well.

"Lord Pendleton didn't waste much time," he eventually said.

Corvo didn't comment. While he privately agreed with Garrett, he also saw the practical measure Pendleton was taking in moving as he did – the Loyalists desperately needed the majority of Parliament to legitimise their rule when the conspiracy revealed itself. Of course, they should gain them anyway, but Corvo knew in a city like Dunwall, it was best not to leave things to chance.

"You go check on your Empress-to-be," Garrett said. "I'm going to start looking through these."

"You should get some sleep," Corvo reprimanded him. "I don't know about you, but I can barely keep awake as it is."

Garrett shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not tired."

"Not _yet," _Corvo said. "I'll need you sharp for Sokolov's interrogation, and wherever that sends us. Please, Garrett," he said. "Go and rest. Dwelling on the fact you missed your chance getting the stone by a day won't help you. Trust me." Corvo himself had spent a lot of time in Coldridge wondering what would have happened if he'd returned from the rest of the Isles on schedule. It didn't bode well upon consideration.

Garrett sighed. "Fine," he said. "I'll take this ingot to Piero instead. Tell him it's a down-payment for anything he makes for me. _Then _I'll head to your room. Happy?"

Corvo had almost forgotten Garrett's theft from Pratchett's safe. Gold wasn't exactly light; it was a small achievement the thief had been able to move as he did carrying it. Still, Corvo nodded his assent.

They parted outside Piero's workshop, where the man seemed _very _interested in Garrett's find, and then began to question him about Sokolov and his workshop. Corvo smiled to himself, knowing Garrett's reticence in talking to _anyone_. It was a miracle he spoke to Corvo as much as he did, but he suspected that Garrett was voicing his opinion as a way to adapt to his surroundings. As he spoke to the man more and more, Corvo realised that Garrett's city was _very _different to his own. Even Karnaca, Corvo's birthplace, wasn't anything like where Garrett was born, and the Serkonan city itself was vastly different to Dunwall.

That being said, Corvo wasn't complaining about Garrett's apparently newfound verbosity. It was infinitely better than the silence Corvo had grown used to in prison.

Emily was asleep when Corvo entered the tower; Callista in a whisper told him to be quiet lest he wake her. He nodded, before quietly bidding the tutor goodnight. He could see that although Emily was asleep, it was not a peaceful once. Apparently they both suffered from nightmares, although Corvo couldn't begin to wonder what Emily's contained. The death of her mother, surely, but what else of the past six months? He was thankful for Callista keeping her vigil over her.

"You have a note," Garrett told him when he entered his chambers. The thief was stood by the window, gazing through the dirty panes onto the street below. Inwardly, Corvo was surprised he'd actually followed through with his request. He spotted the sack of files on the floor by Garrett's mattress, as well as an audiograph player that had _not _been there earlier.

"Samuel gave it to me," Garrett said, noticing Corvo's gaze. "Apparently the Admiral threw it into the canal."

Corvo muffled a laugh, instead turning to the note Garrett had mentioned. Surprisingly, it was from Pendleton.

_Corvo,_

_This matter with my brothers has not been pleasant at all so I don't wish to discuss it further. However, I really must thank you. I've heard that you found some other means of neutralising them, without taking their lives. Ingenious. Wherever they are, even if they are miserable, they are alive at least. So perhaps one day I will see them again._

_-Lord Treavor Pendleton_

The note had been neatly placed on top of two gold ingots, most likely a reward for Corvo's mercy regarding the Pendleton twins. All it did was make him feel worse about what had actually befallen the two men. Still, he'd told himself he wasn't going to dwell on it.

"Seems our Lord is hoping he can beat his brothers _and_ let them know he did it," he said eventually, crumpling the note in his hand.

"He's more naive than I thought," Garrett replied, as Corvo lay down on his bed, thankful for the clean mattress that had been placed there. Drowsiness struck him almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow, and soon he succumbed to sleep, the last thing he saw being Garrett's silhouette at the window.

_**A/N: **_**_Quicker update this time! I'm glad everyone is still liking this.  
As ever, thanks to the Taffers for their help! Extra mention goes to Coyote this time, known on AO3 as jacknall, for their help on the "crisis of faith" scenes. You should totally check out their work too, while you're at it.  
The reason I'm only really including the runes found at Outsider shrines rather than all is simply because I can't really afford to write every minor detour to runes. The same goes for the safes in each level. Plus it makes a lot more sense to me to only include the runes found in the shrines. Maybe I just like the Outsider too much.  
A reviewer on here (a guest, 'TheSneakThief') asked why the voice of "The Eye" didn't have its original owner's - Garrett Sr's - voice. Simply put, I've never played the original Thief games, and it never really crossed my mind, though. Still, it's a neat idea, just one I wouldn't be able to realistically implement.  
I can find no reference of oysters in the Dishonored universe. Hence, they don't exist. Only the Krusts.  
I am also of the firm belief that Garrett really would abhor the practice of whale oil harvesting. And indeed, while the "non-lethal" removal of certain characters is styled as such in-game, you do have to admit they are pretty dark. Poetic, but dark._**

**_Anyway, hope you all enjoy this update!_**


	5. Chapter 5

At first, he wasn't sure what had woken him. As Corvo adjusted to the light around him, his eyes rested on a figure beside his bed. He would have been alarmed had the figure not been so familiar, one he'd missed seeing in his peripheral vision for a very long time.

Emily laughed as he sat up, stood a short distance from the bed.

"You were making funny faces while you were sleeping," she said. Corvo wondered if he'd been dreaming. He couldn't remember it – an achievement on its own, normally he was woken by a nightmare. Emily's presence was clearly reassuring his subconscious that things _would _get better, even if they still felt bleak.

He was glad of it; otherwise Emily might have been facing the sharp end of his sword this morning, instead of the greeting he gave her.

"I decided to nap here in your room while Callista was taking her bath," the girl explained. "She told me if there's ever trouble I should always run here."

"You can stay here whenever you want," Corvo told her, rising and taking a look around the room.

He almost did draw his sword when he saw an unfamiliar figure sitting on Garrett's mattress. It took him a moment to realise why he'd been so unsettled, before realising Garrett had actually _removed _his regular outfit, simply garbed in a thin white shirt and trousers. Corvo assumed they were the garments he wore underneath his regular gear. Garrett was sat on the edge of the mattress, hunched over the leather, carefully applying the oil he'd bought from Griff to certain parts of it.

Without his customary attire, Garrett appeared even smaller than before, if that were possible. Corvo had previously thought him to be thin, but the word that sprang to mind upon seeing him now was _fragile. _Not that he would ever say it to the man – he could clearly see well-defined muscles under the thin cotton shirt he wore. He was pale, but in the day's light his skin was like porcelain, and the kohl that previously surrounded his eyes was gone, instead leaving dark shadows. Corvo had seen the same under his own – the thief had had trouble sleeping for a long while. His hair, black in colour – what else – was short, close-cropped, but also untidy. Corvo assumed that he cut it himself; he doubted there would be a barber that operated at night, or provided service to a man of Garrett's position.

Upon sensing Corvo's stare, Garrett looked up.

"This oil is repulsive," he stated simply. "I assume it's made from whale. It _stinks."_

He went back to his task, carefully applying it along the seams of leather. Corvo also saw that Garrett was right, as the stench of the oil reached him. He wrinkled his nose.

"I hope our next outing is to the fish market," he said. "Otherwise they'll be able to smell you coming a mile off."

Garrett snuffed a quiet laugh, absorbed in his task. "It should fade away once it's dry. Everything here smells like fish anyway, I doubt I'll stand out _that _much."

"Whatever you say," Corvo told him. "I'm going to find some food and Piero, coming?"

"No," Garrett said. "I need to finish this – and _these," _he nodded his head to the stack of papers and audiograph cards by his side. Unlike the night before, they were neatly organised into stacks, although from this distance Corvo couldn't see any pattern to the organisation.

"Did you actually sleep?" Corvo asked him.

"A little," Garrett admitted. "Enough to keep me going, anyway."

Corvo shook his head, heading to the bedroom door. "Emily, you can stay, but make sure Garrett doesn't spend _too _long with the oil. It'll probably damage his brain."

"Check the bathroom on the second floor," Garrett called as he left the room. "You'll find Piero there."

Corvo wondered why Piero was there. He hadn't known the man to leave his workshop outside the building, usually too absorbed in whatever new invention he'd been dreaming up.

Upon reaching the second floor, he soon saw why. Piero was crouched outside the bathroom door, peering through the lock. It was then Corvo recalled Emily had said Callista had been bathing.

Corvo had seen the glances Piero had given to Callista, his unsuccessful attempts to engage her in conversation, but _this _was something else entirely. He coughed quietly, alerting the natural philosopher to his presence.

Corvo wasn't sure if he'd seen a man move so fast, the speed at which Piero had turned to face him.

"I know it looks-" he stammered, voice faltering already. "I was inventing a new kind of lock- the- the tumblers shaped like- like snowflakes."

Corvo didn't speak, instead simply raising an eyebrow as he watched Piero's face turn a deeper hue of crimson.

"The truth is there is no snowflake lock."

Corvo wondered if Sokolov's interrogation would go as quickly.

"I was just, you know, looking. Through the lock." Piero's voice faded until it was barely audible.

Corvo had seen Garrett do this on a few occasions, and he had himself. He'd not looked into a _bathroom, _however.

"I'd rather you _didn't _spy on people here, Piero," he said simply, the other man looking more and more abashed.

"I couldn't bear it if she knew," the man pleaded. "I know you're a man of honour, and I also know that you can kill me at any time. For both these reasons, I apologise and _beg _for your discretion."

Corvo was silent for a moment, more to watch Piero squirm than to do anything else. He probably shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he did, before he spoke again.

"I wondered if the ingot Garrett gave you was enough to cover materials for our supplies," he said, changing the subject to let the man know the issue wasn't going to be discussed.

"It is," Piero said. "But they don't sell well on the black market at the moment, mostly because nobody is able to melt them down at the moment. I should have enough supplies for you by the time you leave, however."

"Good," Corvo said. "Before you leave," he added, "is there anything else you can tell me about Sokolov?"

"Other than what I've already told you?" Piero asked. "It's well known that Sokolov is virtually addicted to a rare liquor called King Street Brandy. The taste is revolting," he added. "It's very expensive stuff, a blend of rare Pandyssian spices and a drop of whale oil."

Corvo nodded thoughtfully to himself, and Piero turned to leave.

"Don't let me catch you here again," he warned, seeing Piero's step quicken. He cast a glance at the bathroom door before him, before deciding that it would probably be very rude of him to barge in on Callista. In any case, he could simply have a quiet word with her later about Piero's misdeeds, if he chose to.

In the end, his stomach solved the issue, and he headed down to the bar area in search of food.

He encountered Lydia, who was more than happy to supply him, and soon he was headed back to his shared room. He carried a plate of food for Garrett (Lydia had made a rather suggestive comment concerning Garrett needing to keep up his strength) and two steaming mugs of coffee. He briefly wondered where the supplies had come from, but he wasn't going to turn them down.

Before he could reach the door, the sound of quiet conversation reached his ears. He recognised Garrett's low tones, as well as Emily's much lighter ones. As much as he told himself he was hanging back so as not to intrude, it was more so he could listen to their words.

"What do you do?" Emily had asked. "Corvo's my protector, my mother's and I," she added, proudly.

Garrett didn't speak, and Corvo wondered if he was actually going to answer.

"I find things," he said eventually. "People ask me to find and get things for them, and I do."

Well, it wasn't an entirely dishonest answer, Corvo reasoned.

"Like me?" Emily asked.

"Like you," Garrett replied. "That's why Corvo brought me along."

If Corvo had to guess, he would have thought that this was not the first time Garrett had spoken to someone a lot younger than him. Either that or he was extremely used to keeping his profession a secret from those who were not best placed to know about it. He recalled Garrett hadn't told him much about Erin, other than that he'd once been her mentor, but his speech had always given the impression she was younger than him. Garrett's profession wasn't one you turned to at middle age – it had to be learned young in order to build up the skill to an art form. Corvo had owned his first sword many years ago, and through sheer hard work and practise – perhaps a little luck – he'd won his place to guard the Empress. He imagined Garrett's talent came from similar hard work.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Emily's next question.

"Could you find the man who killed mother?"

Corvo drew in a slow, deep breath. His thoughts had long lingered on the Empress' assassins while in Coldridge – there had been nothing else to think about. He'd told himself that he wasn't going to draw Emily into it. If he spiralled into revenge, killing Daud instead of bringing him in to be tried, he wouldn't want Emily to know. Her mother had been kind, almost too kind, but she'd been fair and just. Corvo wanted her daughter to carry the same sense of justice. But if Emily's thoughts were dwelling on _revenge _such as this, as Corvo's often did, he didn't know what he would do. In a sense, he was helpless, caught between wanting to do the right thing for the Empress and also wanting to do the right thing for her legacy.

_She hides her fears. She seeks someone to trust. _Hearing the Heart speak about Emily, whispering to him in the voice of her dead mother caused Corvo's own heart to ache. He'd buried his feelings for Jessamine a long time ago, duty and honour being more prominent in his role as Lord Protector. They'd both understood that their relationship could never progress further than what duty allowed. Corvo had loved the Empress, he loved Emily too, but he also knew the rumours that had circled court around Emily's birth; so had Jessamine. Neither one had ever addressed them to an outside party, but they had both known that Emily's real father would never be informed of his child, lest he attempted to seize the throne. Emily Kaldwin existed on a precipitous ledge, threatened by her biological father (if he discovered her existence) on one side and the very government sworn to protect her on the other.

In a sense, he almost understood her asking Garrett if he could find the man who killed Jessamine. It was another threat to Jessamine's lineage, one that the Empress had been very careful to keep in her name.

Garrett hadn't spoken for a while, and when he did, Corvo frowned at the response.

"Finding the man who did it won't bring her back."

His voice was quiet. Corvo could almost picture him carefully sorting through the sheets of paper he'd taken from Sokolov, quiet and precise movements. But his words betrayed something deeper, something _more._

"When I was a child," Garrett began – Corvo heard him place a stack of paper on the floor – "My parents were killed. Murdered." He took a breath. Corvo himself was barely breathing as he hovered outside the door. "I was much younger than you. And for a while I thought I'd died with them. And where I was, you quickly learned that _nothing _was going to bring your parents back."

Emily had fallen silent, apparently listening to Garrett with rapt attention.

"When I got older, I thought about revenge, about what I would do if I found the people who killed them. As time passed I realised it was distracting me from what was important. They might be dead, but _I wasn't. _And neither are you. Don't waste that. Remember your mother, but don't destroy her memory with thoughts of revenge. Not like I did with my own parents."

There was a long silence after that, before Emily spoke up again.

"How old were you?" she asked, voice quiet.

"Six," Garrett replied, voice grim. "It was a very long time ago."

Corvo decided he'd lingered in the hallway too long – the coffee was growing steadily colder in his hands. When he entered the room, he beheld Emily and Garrett sitting on Garrett's mattress (sat at either end), Garrett poring over papers from Sokolov and Emily looking through a book she'd brought with her. Corvo passed the food and the coffee to the thief, who looked surprised.

"Is this real coffee?" he asked, taking a sip. "This is almost as expensive as silver in my city," he added. He saw Corvo's look. "People can't sleep when they catch the Gloom. Coffee helps them stop feeling tired. You can see why there's a shortage."

"So if you took that back you could sell it for a fair price?" Corvo asked.

"Not this stuff. It may be coffee but it still tastes of fish."

Emily giggled, causing Corvo to offer her a smile, before he turned to Garrett again.

"Find anything in those sheets of paper?" he asked.

"A little," Garrett said, picking up a piece of bread from his plate and chewing. "Sokolov barely understood what he had, and what he _did _understand he then tried to connect it to the Outsider. He's obsessed."

"The pictures are weird," Emily spoke up, indicating one of the top sheets. Garrett nodded his agreement.

"This looks like it was where he summarised his notes and drawings," he said, placing a slightly larger sheet onto an empty space on the floor. "Sokolov knew the stone held a great amount of power. He was trying to work out _how _to harness it." Garrett leaned over to the stack of audiograph cards, scanning them. "Good thing he numbered these," he added, picking up one of the cards and placing it in the player.

_"__Sokolov here. Yesterday the Lord Regent entrusted me with the study of a small stone shard. It is made of an unknown material, comes from an unknown source and is a strange blue colour. At this moment in time it is unlikely that I shall rule out Outsider influence. I believe the object is safe to the touch, but I shall prohibit prolonged exposure until I am certain."_

The audio log stopped, ejecting the card, and Garrett began to paw through the pile of cards, presumably looking for a more recent one. Corvo cast a glance at Emily, who was looking at Sokolov's notes and drawings with apparent interest. He briefly wondered whether they should have made her leave the room. Corvo immediately decided against it; Emily was going to be Empress soon, she needed to know what her usurpers had been doing during both Corvo's and her incarceration. Even at her young age, her soon-to-begin tenure as ruler of a nation could have monumental setbacks if a secret, potentially dangerous project was not brought to light.

"If he made one of these logs each day," Garrett began, "then he had the stone for 3 months before it was taken from him. I'd wager _you _had something to do with that," he added, selecting another card.

_"__Log Number 57. The stone is remarkable. When in close contact I am granted with fantastical visions of another world, a world filled with great men and their endeavours to harness the energy this stone contains! Referring to sheet number 86 of my notes, I have drawn what I can see of their features, ready to distribute across the Isles so I may find these men and discover the goal of these plans."_

Garrett quickly searched through the sheets for the corresponding number. As he did so, Corvo noticed a mark on the back of his left hand, a scar. He wondered where it had come from, and whether Garrett had gained it during his struggle against the Graven six months ago – it _looked _around that age. Injured hands were probably not a good idea in Garrett's profession.

"Here's the sheet," Garrett said, looking over the images. "Sokolov added them to his central sheet. Pity he doesn't realise all of these men are dead."

"They are?" Corvo asked, taking the paper and looking at the portraits Sokolov had made – quickly drawn, but accurate.

"Baron Northcrest and Orion," Garrett indicated each man. "This man is Cornelius Greaves, and this is Theodore Eastwick. All of them were part of the ritual at the manor to _harness _the energy of the Primal. All of them died within six months."

"How?" Corvo didn't ask the question, it was Emily who spoke up.

"Cornelius died of a sickness that was caused by his own meddling, Eastwick hanged himself before the mob could do it – the Baron wasn't so lucky – and Orion..." Garrett trailed off, looking down at Emily. "There's a reason Sokolov shouldn't be interfering with this stone."

"Speaking of," Corvo said, casting his eye to the door. "He's probably awake by now. I should see if Havelock's made any progress. Coming?"

Garrett didn't answer for a moment, looking down at the sheets and cards massed around him.

"I'll join you later," he said eventually. "I need to work out _exactly _what Sokolov knew from the stone."

Corvo left him to it, seeing that the man was far too wrapped up in his work to deviate from it now. Upon arriving at the kennels – Sokolov's home for now – he found Pendleton stood outside.

"I hope Sokolov will cooperate," he said. "I'd hoped to have him paint my portrait again one day. Just me this time."

Corvo inwardly noted that if Pendleton was only thinking of using Sokolov for his painting skills, then it was most likely a good thing the Empire didn't rest in his hands alone. Clearly his jealousy and hate for his brothers ran very deeply indeed. He appeared completely recovered from his previous sadness about the loss of the twins, at any rate.

Upon entering the kennel, he saw that the natural philosopher was indeed awake, stood inside his makeshift cell with folded arms and an angry expression. Havelock was pacing outside, probably hoping to intimidate the man.

"Royal Physician," the admiral said, noticing Corvo's arrival, "I believe you and Corvo knew each other in former days. Unlike you, our friend Corvo knows what loyalty means."

Havelock had made a somewhat petty jab, in Corvo's opinion, considering Sokolov's delicate position. If his own situation had been any different, Corvo doubted he would he committing the acts of treason he had been doing this past week simply for the sake of loyalty to a former ruler. Sokolov didn't appear all that impressed either.

"I am loyal to my inner spirit," he challenged. "_You _are the one consorting with the most dangerous man in the Empire."

Corvo allowed himself a small smile at that, one that was not unnoticed.

"It's my belief that Corvo was innocent in the death of the Empress, and the former Spymaster, or the Lord Regent as he calls himself, is a ruthless tyrant, bent on destroying this city, the heart of the Empire."

"You are mistaken if you think there's love between me and the Lord Regent," Sokolov practically spat. "But whatever you intend to do here, I assure you, I am beyond petty scare tactics."

Corvo admired the man's gall. Perhaps it was a trait common among Tyvians. It certainly wasn't a trait among natural philosophers, considering Piero's quickness to talk previously.

"If I don't scare you, Sokolov," Havelock replied coolly, "perhaps these rats _will?" _He hit the side of a crate on the far side of the cage. The sounds of scuffling and the high-pitched unmistakable squeals of rats emanated from within. "Even if they don't carry plague, I've heard a swarm of rats stripping a child's body to the bone in half a minute. I've heard worse. How long do you think it will be before you talk? Before you _beg _to talk?"

For a man set in fighting in the Empress' name, Havelock had a certain cruel streak about him. Corvo wondered whether he'd been discharged from the admiralty for more than one reason.

"Rats, is that the company you keep now, admiral?" Sokolov asked, causing Corvo to smile. He'd never been overly fond of the physician, but his stubbornness in the face of torture was admirable. He was doing _far _better than Piero; or Bunting, for that matter.

"It's the company _you _keep that interests us, Sokolov. We know you painted a portrait of the Lord Regent's mistress. The very aristocrat who is funding the military with her fortune. She is the key to the Lord Regent's control over the city, and we _must _have her name."

Corvo knew their objective was paramount, but he could also see Sokolov wasn't impressed by Havelock's attempts at intimidation.

"You're part of this rabble," Sokolov said, turning to Corvo, who was still stood by the door. "But I know you have your reasons."

"Yes, he does," Havelock cut in. "All we need is the name of the Lord Regent's Mistress. It's very simple."

"I _elect _not to tell you," Sokolov retorted. "You will have to force the words from me, and I warn you my willpower is quite legendary."

Corvo had seen enough corpses stripped by rats within the past week – he'd had to utilise a corpse to distract the rats to escape the sewers near Coldridge Prison safely earlier in the week. He certainly didn't want to have to watch them chew on Sokolov for the sake of a name. He also knew that it would most likely make Sokolov less willing to help in the long term – Corvo bore no love for _his _torturers, after all. And if Sokolov died without giving them a name, then they would be unable to do anything. There were far too many noble women in this city.

He suddenly recalled the information Piero had given to him earlier.

"Let's see if we can find a bribe for you," he said, causing Havelock to start in shock on the far side of the cage.

"A curious strategy," he eventually said.

"Of which _I _approve," Sokolov executed a short bow, enhancing his words. Corvo had to force himself to not roll his eyes – his features were currently not hidden by a mask.

He turned and left, hoping that Piero actually _had _some of the rare liquor he'd said Sokolov loved.

Piero was at first unwilling to give him the brandy, but after a swift reminder of a potential conversation Corvo could have with Callista and the promise of a gold ingot (one given to him by Pendleton), the man finally surrendered the bottle. Corvo inspected the contents, finding the liquor a deep orange in colour. It didn't _look _all that appetizing, but Corvo supposed it was a decent a liquor as any.

When he entered the kennel again, both Havelock and Sokolov were still stood in the same places. Neither of them appeared to have spoken since Corvo had left.

"I have a bottle of King Street for you," Corvo said, producing the item in question.

"King's Street Brandy?" Sokolov questioned, trying to reach for the bottle. Corvo held it just out of his reach for a moment, before passing the bottle to the physician. Better to get into his good graces early – he knew Garrett would more than likely want to speak to the man about his work on the stone, and he wasn't sure if the thief could be delicate about it. He'd not been so with any other person he'd met, aside from Emily, but Corvo suspected that was more due to Emily's age than her position.

"I didn't know if any more existed," Sokolov said, almost reverently, cradling the bottle to his chest. "It is an extraordinary gift. I see I'm dealing with men of taste."

It was amazing how a bottle of liquor could change a man's opinion so quickly, but Corvo wasn't complaining. If this was what it took for Sokolov to talk then it made his job a lot easier.

"I can tell you this much," Sokolov continued, "she was always referred to as Lady Boyle. I painted her, to be sure, but I never saw her face, or learned her first name."

Corvo raised an eyebrow as he took in this information. The name he recognised, although he couldn't place where, but if Sokolov wanted him to believe that he never saw the face of the person he painted then he was going to have to try a _lot _harder.

"You see," the man continued, apparently aware of the situation, "I painted her from _behind. _I assure you, she still makes a striking portrait. But I do not know which Boyle she is. I was to be introduced to her at a masked ball in her honour this very night. But I will miss that party, it seems."

"A _masked _ball at the Boyle estate? Tonight?" Havelock questioned. "The timing is perfect, Corvo. But the Boyles are wealthy and ruthless, so security will be very tight."

"Of course, you already have a mask, don't you Corvo?" Sokolov asked. Of course, now Sokolov was here, it probably wasn't too much of a stretch for him to guess who the masked felon was.

"He's right," Havelock agreed. "You'll be able to mingle with them once you're on the grounds. You'll have to find out which of the Boyle women is connected to the Lord Regent, and take her out in whatever way you can devise."

Corvo noted that Havelock seemed to be noticing his aversion to killing the targets giving to him. He just hoped that an opportunity to remove this Lady Boyle presented itself in due time, as it had in other circumstances. Killing nobles was a messy business on any day, and could bode serious repercussions for the future of the Empire if he did it wrong tonight.

"We're very close now. If you do this tonight, we'll be able to strike at the Lord Regent himself and put Emily on the throne."

"Not if our genius physician here has been as stupid as I think he has."

All three inside the room turned to the door. The source of the voice was Garrett (Corvo wasn't surprised), who was wearing the cloak that went with his outfit, hood concealing most of his features. Corvo wondered if it was for intimidation. Garrett certainly looked more unsettling than Havelock had, and his silence upon entering the room only disquieted the three men inside further. Havelock looked as though he wanted to say something, but Corvo warned him off with a look. Under his arm Garrett carried the audiograph player and a few of Sokolov's note sheets. He placed the player on the table, setting a card inside and hitting play. From his position, Corvo could discern the number 81, which meant it was most likely one of the final logs Sokolov had made concerning the shard of Primal stone.

_"__I gave the Lord Regent his regular update concerning the stone and its visions. He seemed most fascinated by the apparent eradication of a plague when the energy was harnessed during the ritual. Efforts to track the members of this ritual have so far proved futile – they are not in Dunwall at the very least, and the city I see within the stone is unfamiliar. I urged him to let me continue its study, but he told me to surrender the stone or be imprisoned, and find another way of curing the plague that currently ravages this city. If only I could repeat their ritual! Then perhaps all this madness would come to an end."_

The log cut off, those gathered silent. Sokolov was the first to speak.

"How did you get that?" he asked, practically spitting in rage. "They were hidden!"

"You were wrong," Garrett said. Corvo could sense a barely contained anger inside the man, probably more emotion than he'd seen from the man _yet._

"You were- what?" Sokolov apparently hadn't expected that from the thief. Garrett didn't look up at the man, but he produced a sheet of paper – one of Sokolov's notes – and held it up.

"This piece of paper summarises all you saw in that stone fragment. You saw a city, overrun by a mob of the poor – you even drew their symbol here –" He indicated a drawing in the corner of the sheet, from what Corvo could tell it was an eye with a cross through it. "And you saw a man rise from the mob, take control with the help of the beleaguered City Watch, place a woman who you believed to be the instigator of the mob, perhaps even a _god,_ inside an asylum, and then perform a ritual on her, extracting the force and placing it inside a stone that he'd found in pieces, restoring order to the city once more. Am I correct?"

Havelock appeared to be at a loss for words behind Corvo, simply for the sheer _gravity _Garrett held while speaking to Sokolov. He'd not yet looked up, keeping his face concealed. Corvo wondered whether it was to hide his eye, the eye that glowed the same colour as the stone the natural philosopher had spent three months studying.

"That is what it showed me," Sokolov said, his contempt for Garrett clear. "I do not expect _you _to understand."

Corvo saw that Garrett was trying to keep himself calm and measured. His hand twitched around the paper he held, but he kept his gaze levelled at the ground, instead of looking up at Sokolov. Garrett had struck him as a man who didn't like speaking at length, and he often kept his more base emotions in check, yet whatever it was he'd found in Sokolov's notes had clearly struck deep.

"I understand perfectly. You were taken in by what you thought was the promise of a power source and a cure for your plague. What you failed to see was what actually happened."

"Enlighten me then," Sokolov retorted. "What could you have _possibly _got from simply reading my notes? Aside from proof that you _are _able to read?"

Garrett appeared to have reached his tether – which had been short anyway – for he stood up and faced Sokolov, removing his hood in one quick motion. Clearly it had the intended effect, for Sokolov recognised the blue glow surrounding Garrett's eye. Corvo saw his eyes dart across Garrett's face, taking in the scars and the clear signs of sleepless nights. Sokolov almost took half a pace back as Garrett stepped closer to the bars.

"I want you to look at what your stone has done," Garrett hissed, gesturing to his face. "You may have seen what you thought to be truth, but I _lived _it. You _thought _you saw a city being restored to order from plague, but you were wrong. You saw everything _in_ _reverse_. The stone – the ritual – _caused _the plague. It _caused _the mob, the uprising, the burning. All of the men in the ritual: Northcrest, Eastwick, Cornelius, Orion; _all of them dead. _And you think you can harness the power in the same way they attempted to? You'd sit in your workshop and attempt to play god in the same way they did? Well, I _carry _a piece of this stone in me, and it has caused _nothing _but hurt and pain, and it will do the same here unless by _some miracle _I manage to recover it before your _incompetence _ruins us all."

Garrett stepped back again, before holding up another sheet, with a picture of a woman on it. She was short haired, much like Garrett, but wearing a pale white dress. Something about her just looked _wrong._ Corvo wondered if it was Erin.

"And this girl?" Garrett continued, confirming Corvo's suspicion. "She wasn't meant to be the vessel. She wasn't a vengeful god who the men tamed into submission. She was _lost _and _hurt _and _filled _with the pain of an entire city. And if you think for a _moment _that she's the one who's going to lead you to the Outsider, you're even more foolish."

Garrett's newfound eloquence was short-lived, for he crumpled the paper in his fist and turned away, breathing heavily for a moment.

"Where did the Regent take the stone?" he asked, the sudden calm nature to his voice unsettling Corvo far more than his previous outburst had. Havelock looked as though he were about to interfere, but Corvo shook his head, warning him off. This was far more important than a party right now.

Sokolov, for his part, looked _lost. _He stared at Garrett for a few moments, almost uncomprehending, absorbing the information that had just been unloaded on him.

"But-" he began, attempting to challenge Garrett's words. "It was going to be used as a cure-"

"It didn't work," Garrett said shortly, the matter-of-fact tone in his voice indicating that he felt he didn't need to elaborate. "_Where _is the stone?"

"I- I don't know," Sokolov finally admitted, attempting to recover his previous arrogance. "You think I am privy to every secret of the Lord Regent?"

Garrett said nothing, before he looked up at Corvo. Corvo wasn't sure what he saw in the man's eyes – something between sorrow, regret, and anger – before he recovered his stony expression again.

"I hope you're telling the truth. Not for your sake, but for _everyone's."_

He pulled his hood up again, leaving the kennels as silently as he'd arrived.

"We need to talk," Havelock said quietly, motioning to the kennel door. Sokolov was still staring at it, previous confidence almost completely vanquished. He'd not even opened the bottle of brandy Corvo had given him.

Outside, Corvo found himself presented with a withering stare from the admiral, who was clearly not impressed with Garrett's pseudo-interrogation. Or Corvo's previous conduct around the man, it seemed.

"You told me he was here to help you," Havelock began. "He was a friend of yours and he would not jeopardise our mission. Yet he has just told one of the smartest men in the entire Empire that he's a fool. He not only has an ulterior motive for being with us in striking at the Regent, but he's looking for something that sounds as if it could provide great power to Dunwall, all for himself."

Corvo knew that Havelock wasn't privy to the same sort of information he was. If the admiral knew the Outsider had set Garrett to his task, he'd probably be marching to their shared bedchamber ready to shoot the thief. But Corvo was simply amazed at the man's reaction, especially considering he'd actually heard Garrett's words firsthand.

"You think this stone can _help us?" _he asked. "Did you not just hear what Garrett said?"

"All I heard was one man's word against another man's. And I'm more willing to believe one than the other."

"Admiral," Corvo began, keeping his voice even while his mind frantically searched for the right words. "As it stands at the moment, Garrett has been nothing but a help to our cause. He was vital in finding Emily and disposing of the Pendleton twins. He saved us both from getting caught numerous times – even last night when we were almost caught leaving with Sokolov. Yes, he has other reasons for being here, but I trust him to keep his motivations separate. He knows our mission, and he also knows he has no reason to stop us from doing what we've planned to, simply because if the Regent _does _have the stone, it will be a lot easier to find once he's not in power, yes?"

Corvo quickly left before Havelock could say any more, mind reeling from the revelations from both Garrett and the admiral. He found the former in their shared room, pacing in front of his mattress – Emily was nowhere to be seen.

"Callista came and found her," Garrett said, noticing Corvo's look. "She has lessons."

Corvo didn't respond, simply mulling their current situation over in his head. He cast a glance up at the ceiling, spotting Garrett's small gathering of loot on the beam, in that instant recalling where he'd heard the name Boyle before.

"The invitation you have," he said, nodding to the paper. "Is it for a party tonight? At the Boyle Estate?"

Garrett reached up, taking down the paper and the mask he'd stashed with it.

"A masked ball, hosted by the three ladies Boyle," he summarised. "Why?"

"One of them is the Lord Regent's mistress. She's our next target. And you've just provided a way in. Good thing you picked up that mask."

Garrett looked up sharply, frowning. "You want me to come with you to a party? A party of _nobles?" _he asked. "I'm a thief, I don't... _mingle_."

"You made that abundantly clear just now," Corvo said. "I think you gave Sokolov _quite _a lot to think about."

Garrett's expression darkened; Corvo saw his hand clench into a fist again. "I hope he _does_ think about it. He had everything in completely the wrong direction."

"Well, I don't think he does anymore," Corvo reasoned, keeping his tone neutral. "Your bigger problem is that Havelock now knows what you're here for and I think he trusts Sokolov more than you. He's probably telling Martin and Pendleton now. In any case," he finished, "we need to set out for the Boyle Estate. You won't be finding the stone tonight."

Garrett looked as though he were about to argue, before he nodded to himself.

"Are you sure about bringing me?" he asked eventually. "I don't exactly... _blend _well."

"It's better than leaving you here," Corvo replied. "And you must have made your way around your fair share of noble houses. You'll probably know more secrets about them than I will." He paused for a moment, before an idea occurred to him. "It's a costume ball, right?" he asked. "Well, what better costumes than the two most wanted men in the city?"

Garrett's mouth quirked into a half smile, before he motioned to Corvo with his hand.

"Fine," he said eventually. "Meet me at the boat. I need to get my things together."

Corvo collected the now-cold mug of coffee that Garrett had left – clearly the man had been too distracted to finish it, and headed down to the ground floor of the Hound Pits, where Emily was quizzing Havelock about his days in the navy. He briefly wondered how she'd managed to escape Callista. At the bar, he met Pendleton, who stopped him.

"I hear you two are off to the Boyles' little bash tonight," he said. "I have just a tiny favour I'd like to ask you – could you give this note to Lord Shaw?" He reached into an inside pocket, producing a sealed envelope. Corvo wondered how he was supposed to recognise the man at a _masked party, _but Pendleton appeared to anticipate the question.

"You'll know him," he said. "A rather brusque man, wearing a wolf's mask. In fact, he may be looking for me."

"I'll see what I can do," Corvo told him, brushing past and heading for the boat, where Samuel and Garrett both waited, the latter now fully dressed in his usual attire. Thankfully, the smell of whale had dissipated from the leather, giving Corvo one less thing to worry about.

"The Boyle costume ball, eh?" Samuel asked, giving them both a knowing smile. "That'll be fun."

"Not for everybody," Garrett muttered, as he climbed into the boat, mask clutched in one hand.

"Got your invite?" Corvo asked, joining him in the boat.

"It's for one person. We need to figure out how to get both of us in," Garrett replied.

"If the worst comes to the worst, I'm sure we can scale the wall or something. You'd probably be good at that."

* * *

The Estate District was on the other side of the river from the Hound Pits; Corvo took the time to admire the view of the entire city while they crossed the Wrenhaven's large expanse. Next to him, Garrett was turning his newly-acquired mask over in his hands. Corvo took a moment to look at the item. Bunting had clearly put a lot of his talent into it – it was designed to mimic a bird's skull, down to the eye sockets and fine ridges of bone. Corvo wondered what bird he'd been trying to replicate. Whatever it was, it seemed strangely fitting to now be in Garrett's hands.

The thief caught his gaze, and held the mask up to the light to study it better.

"A fine piece," he said. "I'm not sure if it's my style, though."

"It's going to have to be," Corvo said, "your scarf isn't going to cut it this time."

Garrett nodded his assent, and the boat fell silent once more. Corvo decided now was the time to bring up something that he'd been thinking over for quite a while now.

"Garrett, what you said before, to Emily-" he began, but Garrett raised his hand, cutting him off.

"I know you heard it," he said. "I saw you."

Of course he had. He'd spotted Piero from two floors away, spying on Callista. A single wall wasn't going to stop him; his gift from the Outsider was very powerful indeed.

"Why did you tell her what you did?" Corvo finally asked. Garrett hadn't sounded too bothered that he'd known Corvo to be listening in to their conversation. Now he'd thought about it, he wasn't sure what Garrett had intended with his revelations to Emily. Empathy? Or something to keep her sated in the troubling time? He'd warned her off the path of revenge, which he was grateful for, but to what end?

"She needs truth more than any sense of hope I could give her," Garrett said. "She sees and hears a lot more than most would think. Children aren't noticed, even high-born children like her. I certainly wasn't noticed."

His last sentence took on a bitter note, making Corvo wonder what his life had been like for him after his parents had been killed. Presumably, he would have been taken to an orphanage or an alms-house, a boy aged six was in no state to work, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, unsure what else to say.

"What for?" Garrett asked, smirking. "My past, or for listening in? Or was my advice terrible?"

"No," Corvo said, "it was good advice." Part of him was starting to wonder whether Garrett had told the story for more than just Emily's benefit.

"I'm not one to pry," Samuel began, "but I figure that little girl needs some good figures in her life right now. Unorthodox as you are, Garrett, I think you are a good figure for Emily to look up to. Whatever you told her, I'm sure it was meant for the best."

Garrett was silent, apparently shocked by Samuel's words. Clearly he wasn't used to the sort of praise being given to him. Corvo wondered if he saw Emily as a way to repent for his failings with Erin.

"Did you ever tell Erin that story?" he asked, causing Garrett to look up.

"No," was the eventual reply. "She had her own history. She didn't need mine."

The boat had now reached the tributary that lead to the Estate District, and a hush fell over the small party as they travelled up the canal. High walls pressed down either side of them, creating a sense of closeness that jarred with the open space of the river they had just left.

Garrett reached for his kohl box, once more applying it around his eyes.

"Aren't you spreading that a bit... liberally?" Samuel asked, as Garrett applied more to his cheeks.

"I'm going to be wearing a mask," Garrett said, "A mask with very large eye holes. My scarf doesn't reach that high."

Corvo could see Garrett's reasoning, but he was glad that his mask covered his entire face.

"I'll put it on when we're actually there," Garrett added, noticing Corvo put his own on. "It's going to severely impair my vision otherwise."

"Good grief," Samuel said, looking away and up the canal. "The Lord Regent's pulling out all the stops for the Boyle family. I didn't think there'd be tallboys patrolling here tonight."

"_What now_?" Garrett asked. "Something _else_ that can vaporise me in an instant?"

Corvo didn't have a chance to respond, as at that moment a tallboy appeared on the bridge above them. Officially known as 'stilt-walkers', a tallboy was essentially a guard on raised stilts, shielded from ground attack and carrying a compound bow armed with deadly fire arrows. Most people know not to cross them, and they were effective crowd control personnel. That being said, Corvo wasn't particularly pleased to see them here tonight. It only made their job harder, after all.

"Watch yourselves," Samuel warned. "They don't fool around."

As if to back up Samuel's point, the tallboy in question fired its weapon, most likely at a group of weepers, or worse, simple citizens. Garrett peered at the bow the guardsman held.

"They use flaming ammunition with a tank of oil strapped to their backs?" he asked, spotting the eerie-yet-familiar glow of a tank surrounding the tallboy.

"The suits need power," Corvo said simply. "As does the spotlight they use to search dark areas."

Garrett huffed out a breath, pulling his scarf up as Samuel pulled up to a small jetty. With the additional kohl applied around his eyes, he looked even more like a shadow than ever. Corvo could see that once his mask was on, his features would be hidden completely; the only thing to give him away being a pale blue glow from his eye. Corvo hoped it wouldn't be noticed.

As they mounted the steps into the district proper, an announcement rang out over the loudspeaker:

_"__Attention citizens: Please clear the streets. This area is restricted to invited guests only, by request of the local landowners. Unauthorised intruders will be expelled or apprehended on sight."_

"Charming," Corvo commented, noting that their identities would probably only hold inside the party. Out here on the street, the two masked felons were most likely to attract the wrong kind of attention. Samuel had managed to get them pretty close to the Boyle Estate – closer than he had the day before on Kaldwin's Bridge, at any rate. At the moment, they were in an area that wasn't heavily patrolled – the tallboy was on the other side of the river and Corvo could see some guards further down the canal, nearer the bridge that crossed to the Estate proper.

"I vote we take our chances with the guards at ground level," Garrett said, gesturing to the tallboy on the other side of the river. Corvo nodded his agreement. They could have to go along the canal front, underneath some arches to a small guard outpost.

He made to move, when a sound drew his attention. He turned his head slightly, frowning and focusing. The Heart had started to beat again, this time almost unnoticed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Garrett frown at him as he turned slowly on the spot, trying to pinpoint the source.

"That building up there," he said, pointing to a balcony across the street. "Can you see anyone inside?"

Garrett peered at the building in question. "Not from here," he said. "If you can get us to the scaffolding I probably could."

The scaffolding in question was in the middle of the street, but it was shrouded in darkness, meaning that they would still be fairly well-hidden from any guards. Once there, Garrett peered up at the building again, before making a small noise.

"Weepers," he said. "Or drunks. I'm not sure which I'd prefer. Why do you want to go in there?"

Now that they were closer to the building, the steady beat of the Heart had grown stronger and louder. Corvo wondered if it was worth the risk, before deciding that he could most likely handle a few Weepers. He just hoped that they didn't throw up on him; _that _would be difficult to explain at the party.

"How are they spread out?" Corvo asked, ignoring the last question. Garrett would see soon enough, after all.

"There's one walking out onto the balcony, and then a small group at the stairs," Garrett replied. "The one on the balcony is turning away..." he paused for a few seconds, "now."

Corvo took the chance immediately, blinking them both up to the balcony and drawing his crossbow, dispatching the Weeper with a sleep dart. The small group Garrett had mentioned were nowhere to be seen, the man pointed to the floor below them, indicating they were not in the current vicinity. As long as they were quiet, they wouldn't arouse any suspicion.

The apartment was dilapidated, and one of the rooms was covered in graffiti, simply the word _dreary _over and over. Another message was scrawled on the floor.

"_You asked me to decide. You asked me to do it. There's a hole in the world," _Garrett read. "This place gets stranger the more I see of it."

Corvo was frowning at the words written on the wall. "I think this place belonged to Granny Rags," he said eventually. "The woman we saw outside the Golden Cat. The Outsider told me she was once from a noble family, and the writing _does _strike me as something she'd say."

"The two guards at the end of the street were talking about her," Garrett confirmed. "They said she sold her family to the Outsider. I thought religion in _my_ city was complicated."

Corvo smirked, heading to the shrine in the apartment and gazing at it for a moment. Out of the window next to it, he could see the Boyle Estate, lit with lanterns and the occasional firework. A piece of graffiti proclaimed _'Esma Boyle is a rutting hound!'_

When he reached for the rune, the world around him almost _shuddered, _something that hadn't occurred before. After a moment, it passed, and Corvo wasn't sure if Garrett had noticed anything. Once more, the Outsider emerged from a jet black vortex.

"Going to a party, gentlemen?" he asked, before addressing Corvo. "Is that what you dreamed of, all those months in Coldridge Prison while waiting for the executioner?" he asked, before turning to Garrett. "Or you, as you trod the stones of the Undercity, following the path of the Graven? Wealth, beautiful women in the latest fashions laughing and drinking Tyvian wine?

"And what of the host, Lady Boyle?" the Outsider continued, fixing his gaze on them both. "I can see all her tomorrows and I know that either she dies tonight by your hand or she'll live out her days, month after month, year after year, far away, even as her fine clothes wear into tatters and her silken hair gets dull and grey. Half the city can see the lights from the party, and they dream of the delights inside. Will you tear it all to pieces? Either way, it's Lady Boyle's _last _party."

"He gives a speech about the fate of this Lady Boyle and not once does he tell us _which _one it is?" Garrett asked, after the Outsider disappeared back into the Void. Corvo had to admit the man had a point, but the Outsider _had _revealed that some other way to remove Lady Boyle was going to present itself. That being said, it didn't exactly sound pleasant, but Corvo knew the measure would have to be an extreme one to ensure that the Regent was cut off from his funds entirely.

They climbed out of the window, coming to stand on a rooftop that overlooked the Boyle Estate and the canal. From their vantage point, Corvo could see two guards by the main bridge, as well as another tallboy patrolling the bridge and the street together. After waiting a short while, and a motion from Garrett (Corvo deferred to the man who did this thing for a living), they hurried across the bridge, out of sight of both the tallboys. It was only a short climb over the fence to the Boyle estate, aided by some crates.

Garrett lingered in the shadows by the gate for a moment, removing his bow and quiver, followed by his cloak. For a moment, Corvo wondered what he was going, but he fixed the bow to the small of his back, along with the quiver, before replacing the cloak over the top, concealing them.

"Good idea," Corvo noted, as Garrett rearranged the cloak over himself to disguise his outfit a little more. He then put the mask on. Paired with the additional kohl and his scarf, Garrett looked every part the party guest.

"Now we just need to get in," he said, "should be easy, considering that lady there has just dropped her invite." He nodded up the street, where a woman in a pink suit and extremely ornate mask chased after the paper, only to be called off by her friends. Clearly she wasn't too concerned about the loss of her invitation, and after a moment Corvo sauntered over to the spot and discretely picked up the paper. When he turned around, he almost dropped it in shock, for a few feet away stood Bunting, the art dealer, smoking a cigarette and looking _furious. _Corvo quickly stepped back to Garrett.

"Careful of the art dealer," he said. "He may notice his mask."

"Unlikely," Garrett said, but Corvo noticed he made sure to skirt the man anyway. "Nobles are usually preoccupied with trying to recoup the money lost than the item itself."

The doorman barely gave them a second glance as he took their invitations, before waving them through. Corvo was inwardly relieved that a fight hadn't occurred at the front door.

"Look at that mask," he heard the doorman mutter to the other guard as they passed through. "Sick bastard."

_Perhaps 'dressing up' as the Masked Felon wasn't my best idea, _Corvo thought. Even Garrett appeared to be thinking the same thing.

Upon reaching the causeway, they approached another pair of guests, who were discussing how dull the theme of the party was – apparently there was a contest to guess which member of the Boyle family was which. Upon spotting Corvo and Garrett, the pair's discussion halted.

"Oh my, that's wicked!" a woman in a purple suit exclaimed. "Who made that mask for you? It's exactly like the wanted posters!"

"That's going to cast a pall over the whole evening," her male companion said. "I think I'm starting to enjoy myself."

_Tonight the nobles try and conceal their indiscretions behind masks and costumes, _the Heart informed him as the pair walked away. Clearly this party was all for show, an attempt at normality while the city outside was ravaged by plague and political upheaval.

"If you spot a man in a wolf mask, let me know," Corvo said, recalling Pendleton's request. Garrett raised his head, looking around.

"This mask is infuriating," he complained, "I suggest we do what we've come here to do quickly."

They headed up a set of stairs, coming to a garden, where a man stood smoking, flanked by a pair of guards. Corvo saw that thankfully, it was Lord Shaw – the wolf mask was unmistakable.

"Yes?" he asked, in such a manner that he believed Corvo to be beneath him. He clearly wasn't impressed by the mask. Behind him, Garrett folded his arms, leaning against the wall nearby.

"This is a note from Lord Treavor Pendleton," Corvo said, passing the sealed envelope.

"Pendleton, hm?" Shaw asked, unfolding the letter. "What's he got to say to me?"

Whatever it was, it clearly didn't go down well, as Shaw tossed the note aside.

"Pendleton is a _gutless, _lying sack of shit," he fumed. "I hope he's paying you well for this."

He headed away, down the stairs, giving Corvo the impression he was supposed to follow. With a gesture, he motioned for Garrett to stay where he was, the thief nodded his assent, simply watching.

"It's damned cold tonight," Shaw complained. "Hurry up and let's see what you're made of."

They came to a pedestal, whereupon sat an ornate wooden box. One of the guards (presumably hired by Shaw) opened it.

"Lord Pendleton's representative will select his weapon," he said, revealing the two similarly ornate pistols.

_Great,_ Corvo thought. _Not only do they use me to carry out political assassinations, now I have to act on Pendleton's behalf in a duel. _He knew he could refuse the duel, but then that would cast Pendleton in a bad light among the nobles, something that probably wasn't needed right now, considering his fragile political standing.

He selected a pistol, feeling its weight in his hand and checking it was loaded. It was of fine make, and the sights were accurate.

"A contest of honour will take place between this anonymous gentleman acting for the challenger, Lord Treavor Pendleton, and Lord Shaw, the challenged party," the guard proclaimed. An official statement generally used for such a situation, although it had been quite a while since Corvo had even _seen _a duel, let alone entered one. He was more used to combat with swords than pistols, but he was confident in his ability.

"You will each turn and proceed to the marked positions," the guard continued, gesturing to the stone circles on the floor between them, "and remain facing away from each other as I count down from three. You may then turn and fire at will-"

"Get _on _with it," Shaw interrupted, taking his own pistol. "I'll kill this fool and we can all go back inside."

"Sorry m'lord," the guard gave a short bow. "We shall proceed."

Standing on the small stone circle, Corvo actually felt a pang of nervousness as the guard counted down. He spotted Garrett in his peripheral vision, watching, but not interfering. He guessed it wasn't Garrett's style to get involved in duels for honour. The guard counted down, and as he reached one Corvo felt a rush of adrenaline, and then something else entirely, something _more _than just adrenaline_._ The brand on his left hand flared briefly, and when he turned fully he found the world around him to have halted completely. He faltered for a moment, forgetting where he was, entranced by the changes around him. It was night, yet right now the world looked like it had drained of colour, like an object left to sit in the sun for too long. He cast a glance up to Garrett, who now resembled a dark shadow – except for his eye, which glowed brighter than anything else in his sight. Just within earshot, numerous voices whispered, speaking in a language Corvo did not understand, and underneath it all there was a low roar, something ancient and modern at the same time. He felt like he'd placed one foot into the Void, a place where there was infinite stillness and a constant surging energy at the same time.

Corvo realised that it was the same surge he'd felt earlier when picking up the rune. The Outsider had clearly felt it was time to give him a new gift. Corvo wondered if he'd foreseen this duel.

The whispers were growing louder, the roar more insistent, and Corvo took it to mean that his time in this slowed-down reality was growing short. He raised the pistol, taking a clear aim, and fired.

The echo of the shot ricocheted around him, and time instantly sped up again. Shaw didn't even get a chance to loose his own shot as he was hit full force in the chest by Corvo's bullet. Corvo felt a pang of sympathy for the man, but he knew that this was his only option. Shaw hadn't exactly seemed like a pleasant man, anyway.

_He is wealthy and wears fine clothing, _the Heart supplied, as if to comfort him, _but underneath all men look the same._

"And that's another patron dead," one of Shaw's guards said, checking over the body. "What do we do now?" he asked his companion.

"It's lucky we're in demand. I hear the Estermonts pay top coin."

"No use trying them tonight. Let's see if we can find a little brandy. Let the Boyles clean up this mess."

The two guards moved away after that, and Garrett slowly moved down the steps, joining Corvo as he stood over the man's body.

"Did you just fight a duel for _Pendleton's _honour?" he asked. Corvo could almost hear him smiling.

"It would have been nice if he'd let me in on it," Corvo grumbled, before indicating with his head. "Looks like the party's that way. There's nothing we can do here. Like the guards said, let the Boyles handle this."

"What happened?" Garrett asked quietly as they retraced their steps to the main courtyard, following the pair of guards who were now discussing the prospect of whiskey and cigars. "You- something happened," he said. "You _looked _different."

"Looks like those shrines finally paid off," Corvo said, quieter than usual. "I'll explain later," he added. He didn't want their conversation to be heard, especially not with guards and possibly the odd Overseer lurking. Garrett seemed to get his meaning, for he nodded, movement accentuated by his mask.

Inside the Boyle Manor, it was like stepping into another world. Opulence was all around them, and several speakers played music, while small cannons fired confetti. Corvo saw many nobles, all in varying masks, and also a lot of guards. There was even an Overseer. Next to him, Garrett shifted on his feet, uncomfortable already in the bright interior.

"You'd blend in better if you didn't look as if you were ready to bolt at any moment," he muttered to the shorter man.

"I _am _ready to bolt at any moment," Garrett replied through gritted teeth, giving Corvo a momentary spark of amusement.

"Pretend it's a job," Corvo told him. "You're mingling with the crowd because you're going to pick their pockets. Except you're _not _going to do that."

"Try and stop me," Garrett replied, and Corvo smiled, pleased that his plan to set the man at ease had actually worked. He cast a glance across the room, a small table near the door drawing his eye. On it was a guest ledger, containing all the names of the guests at the party. For a moment, he paused, before picking up the pen and signing a name.

_Corvo Attano._

Garrett looked down at the written name, a snort emerging from behind the mask.

"Give me that," he muttered, taking the pen and scrawling another name below Corvo's. Corvo had to repress a laugh when he saw what Garrett had chosen to write down.

_The Outsider._

"If you're quite done," Garrett said, turning the pen over in his hand and subtly pocketing it, "I think we have a woman to find."

"Of course," Corvo replied, gesturing with his hand to the hall before them. "I suggest we talk to the guests, see what we can find."

"We could always just sneak upstairs and read their diaries," Garrett said. "Do people here keep diaries? I always thought it to be pretentious. Useful for working out where the valuables are hidden, but pretentious."

"If you can find a way past the Wall of Light without drawing attention, be my guest," Corvo said. Garrett seemed to peer at the stairs for a moment.

"Noble houses like this always have a servant's staircase," he said. "Probably near the kitchen or dining room to allow food to travel easily between without the staff having to go through the front rooms."

"You mean the one with the Overseer stood next to it?" Corvo asked as they entered a room with a long table covered in the most exquisite food Corvo had seen in a while. He thought back to his somewhat meagre meal earlier and the lavish spread here. In here, you could almost forget that the whole city was crumbling outside.

_Don't be fooled if you hear laughter, or happen upon a smile, _The Heart whispered. _There is no lightness or merriment here._

Well, at least the Heart was reminding him otherwise.

The Overseer was stood by a door that did indeed lead to a staircase; Corvo could see another guard in the staircase area proper, as well as a maid heading down to what was presumably the kitchen. Strapped to the Overseer's chest was a large, metal contraption with a crank handle. Corvo had heard of the devices before, but he'd not actually seen one – a music box capale of disrupting magic. One part of him wondered if they actually _worked, _but another part told him they did, considering the Outsider's inability to get into the Overseer compound and retrieve Garrett.

"We should split up," Corvo said eventually. "You take the rooms near the back of the house, I'll look around here. Listen to the guests and see if you can get anything from them."

Garrett nodded his assent, turning and heading towards the music room and beyond. Although he was making an effort to not appear conspicuous, his outfit alone was drawing the attention of most of the guests – as was Corvo's. Twice he almost caused a maid to leap in fright upon turning and seeing him.

"Scary mask!" one of them breathed, hurrying away towards the stairs to the kitchen.

After five minutes of so-called mingling, Corvo was beginning to remember why he disliked formal events. He'd seen all three of the Boyle women, one wearing black, one in red, and the last in white; but there was no indication as to which one was which. Or, for that matter, who was Burrows' mistress. He wondered why such a woman would associate themselves with such a despicable man, but he supposed there were few ways women could earn their seats of power. Jessamine had been both fortunate and shrewd enough to realise how lucky she was to have kept her position.

In one of the rooms, he came upon two of the guests in deep discussion. One of them sounded rather unhappy; Corvo wondered whether he regretted his choice of mask, for the whale really _didn't _do him any favours. The woman, wearing a moth mask, was much more cheerful, admonishing the man for resenting Corvo's approach.

"It's a _party," _she said. "It's called mingling!"

"Mingle all you want then," Whale mask said. "We'll speak later."

He left Corvo and the woman alone after that, and she soon turned to him, glee in her voice.

"You're a scandal in that mask," she told him. "I like a man with poor judgement. Would you get me a drink?" she asked. "I'd be so grateful."

Corvo noted that if this guest liked to mingle so much, she probably knew a lot about the others around them. And if getting her a drink was what it cost, he could bear the short walk to the drinks fountain. With a short bow, he left, swiftly getting her a glass of the punch. As he returned and handed her the glass, he wondered how she would drink it through the mask. She didn't reveal it, instead swilling the drink in her hand.

"Now, how can I thank you?" she wondered aloud. "Are you playing Lady Boyle's guessing game?" she asked. "Well, I know for a fact Waverly's in black tonight," she said. "In mourning for her reputation, I expect."

It was always the same with nobles. They chatted amicably and laughed at parties, but once someone's back was turned they were worse than a gang of thieves.

"Additionally," Moth mask added, "Lydia's in red..."

Corvo thanked the woman for her time, swiftly leaving in search of Garrett. Now he knew which Boyle was which, he just didn't know _who _he was here for. He hoped Garrett had had some good luck. As he searched, he passed one of the Boyles, Esma, in white.

His search for Garrett didn't take long, as the man appeared at the far end of the corridor. He motioned with his head the music room, which was mostly empty aside from the odd servant.

"I know who your target is," Garrett told him, voice somewhat grim. "There's a man in the room next door. Brisby, wearing a mask that I _think _is meant to be a rat. Suits him, anyway. Apparently, he's a friend of Pendleton's and a backer of your little conspiracy. And he just so happens to be in love with our doomed Lady Boyle."

"He's the other option the Outsider mentioned," Corvo summarised.

"Yes," Garrett said. "If we can bring Esma Boyle to the cellar, Brisby will make sure she's never seen again."

Behind his mask, Corvo made a face. He knew the implications of Brisby's request, he knew it would probably be more merciful to kill Esma and be done with it. Murder was not a crime that would go unnoticed, and he knew it would have serious repercussions to the city if Esma Boyle was killed hosting her own party. If she went missing? Well, it would take longer for the guards to find out.

"This is your decision," Garrett said. "These are the people who funded your downfall, after all. As much as I may dislike it, it _is _yours to make."

One the one hand, Corvo was grateful for Garrett's support. On the other, he now had the knowledge that whatever he was to decide, it was _his _decision alone, and he would carry all the guilt for it. Garrett was right, however, Esma Boyle was the money behind the Regent, and while she was still around they would be unable to make a move.

"We take her to Brisby," Corvo said finally, regretfully. "Esma Boyle got her power through murder. I'll not grant her the same luxury."

Garrett said nothing, merely nodded his assent. "Now we just need to find her," he said, tone neutral. Corvo wondered if he agreed with the decision.

"She's in white," Corvo told him. "I met a woman who knew what colour they were wearing for the guessing game the three have going on. I'll talk to her; see if I can make her follow me somewhere more private."

Corvo just managed to catch a glimpse of Garrett raising an eyebrow behind his mask. He ignored it, instead heading out into the main body of the party and looking for Esma. Garrett lingered a short way behind, following, but not making it obvious he was doing so.

He found her in the entrance hall, mingling with a few guests and disdainfully commenting on the outfit of one; Corvo felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. Up close, he found himself rather unsettled by the expressionless, featureless visage of the mask she was wearing, but he supposed that was the point to make the guessing game harder.

_When there are teeth marks on her skin, she is careful to dress away from servant's prying eyes._

Corvo was glad this was a masked party; otherwise Esma probably would have caught his face twitch at the Heart's statement.

"May I get you a drink?" he asked Esma, keeping his tone cordial and neutral.

"I'm already seeing two of you, but thanks anyway," was the reply, her tone hinting that she was already fairly inebriated. Still, Corvo persevered. He hoped the Heart's information was what it implied to be.

"Maybe we'd have more privacy in your chambers, Lady Esma," he said, making sure he addressed her by name.

It appeared to work, for although he couldn't see her face, Esma Boyle sounded very pleased by his idea.

"Well done, sir," she praised. "And that sounds lovely. Why don't you come with me?"

Corvo had expected that to be a lot more difficult. He dutifully followed Esma, also noticing Garrett shadowing the pair of them. Esma lead him to the servant's staircase, where he passed by the Overseer and the other guard – the latter giving him an almost envious look as they moved up the staircase.

"You know, I have a dirty little secret," Esma confessed as they ascended the stairs. "You can't _imagine _who I'm seeing. I mean, if people only knew! But I'm only doing it to insure the family name. It's too dangerous right now not to have proper connections."

Corvo felt a pang of sympathy for Esma Boyle. True, she funded the Lord Regent, but she was right in that an unconnected noble in Dunwall would be easily removed. Political movement in a troubled time was second nature to a lot of nobles, and this time was no different. Esma most likely didn't even know how her money was used; she just knew that she would be safe as long as she was in bed with the most powerful man in the city. Or, at least, she thought she would be.

"Truthfully, if I could get free of him, I would. You're more my type. Mysterious, silent, self-composed. I do believe this is going to be a _fabulous _evening."

By this point, they had entered what was presumably Esma's bedroom, although he wouldn't put it past the woman to purposefully use the bed of her sister. Corvo moved quickly, while her back was turned, taking a sleep dart meant to go into his crossbow and injecting it into Esma's neck. He caught her as she toppled over, placing her on the bed in front of him.

"The way she followed you, she almost deserved that," a voice said from behind him; Corvo turned to see Garrett lingering in the doorway. He reached up, removing his bird mask. "I can't see a thing in this contraption," he said. "And I get the feeling we'll be leaving soon."

"How did you get past the guard?" Corvo asked him, as Garrett threw the mask onto the bed, before looking intently around the room. He moved across to the far side, near the door.

"One of the guests was suddenly overcome with an extreme bout of nausea," Garrett said. "There may have been a mix of sulphur and quicklime placed into his drink. In any case, he threw up all over the buffet table."

Corvo snuffed a laugh as Garrett moved along the wood-panelled side of the room, carefully inspecting the various paintings and the wall itself. Near the door, he paused, before reaching for a sash that hung from the ceiling.

"Nice," the thief said, as a wood panel near the ceiling opened. "I won't be a moment." He quickly scaled the wall, using the panels as support, before disappearing into the hole. Corvo huffed, a short, annoyed breath; Garrett's tendency to deviate from the plan for the sake of _loot _was infuriating.

_He once stole to live. He now lives to steal, _the Heart said, almost making him jump. He supposed that considering thievery was indeed the only job Garrett knew, he could let him have this moment.

In any case, Garrett quickly reappeared.

"The famous Boyle Cameo," he said, holding an item up, before making the short leap to the floor. He landed softly; Corvo was able to appreciate the soft leather shoes he wore, there was virtually no sound as he landed. Corvo's boots would not have been as quiet.

"I'll go first," Garrett offered, pocketing the cameo. Corvo wondered what else he'd managed to pilfer while he'd been exploring the establishment. He didn't ask, instead lifting Esma Boyle onto his shoulder. She snored gently in his ear, and he grimaced in sympathy for her uncertain future. It couldn't be helped. He would either have to kill her, or do _this. _Surely, in the long term, it was more merciful?

He wasn't sure if he even believed _himself._

Halfway down the stairs, Garrett stopped, peering at the boards below them, before swearing quietly.

"The Overseer and two of the guards have decided to have a conversation in the stairwell, so they can watch for unsavoury people," he said, before apparently coming to a decision. "When you hear them leave, get to the basement and give her to Brisby. Make your way back up and find me. We'll probably have to leave _quickly_," he added.

He moved away, back up the stairs, leaving Corvo stranded and wondering just _what _he was going to do. He considered trying his newfound ability to stop time, but he didn't really know how to activate it. It wasn't natural, like the first power given to him – he just _felt _and moved. Stopping time was different, stranger, and he wasn't yet used to it. He didn't exactly want the world to speed up while he was right next to the small crowd of guards, after all.

He became aware that _something _was happening by a commotion from the dining hall, followed by the sounds of swords being drawn and the guards leaving the stairwell. The area around Corvo was silent, and he waited a moment before creeping down the stairs. Thankfully, there was nobody in the kitchen, and soon he was negotiating the many racks of wine and other liquor to where Brisby was waiting with his boat. Corvo decided he was going to have to remain as unfeeling as possible. He could do that, he'd managed it in Coldridge, after all.

"You found her!" the man exclaimed, an almost unreasonable amount of joy in his tone. "Quickly, let's get her into the boat."

Corvo handed the woman to Brisby, where he laid her down with the utmost care and attention. Upon making sure she was secured, he turned back to Corvo.

"You'll never know how happy you've made me," he said. "Someday she'll learn to appreciate me. After all," he added, a bitter note coming into his voice, "she'll have her whole life."

The boat quickly left, but the unsettling feeling in Corvo's stomach didn't. He put it out of his mind, instead focusing on finding Garrett, who was most likely still causing a commotion on the upper floors.

When he reached the ground floor, he was assailed by a wash of noise. People shouting – loudly – a woman screaming and something else, underneath it all, that made Corvo's hair stand on end. He crept into the dining room, noting that it was virtually devoid of people, except for a maid cowering in the corner. He noticed that a lot of the dishes of food were scattered on the floor, leaving dark stains in various places. Moving through the somewhat eerily empty room – the noise was further away – Corvo was beginning to get further and further concerned for Garrett. When he reached the source of the commotion, he slowed, halting at a doorframe and peering round.

The entrance hall was filled with guards, all stood in a vague circle. Nobles lingered at the edge, peering over the arrayed guard's shoulders, whispering and shouting alike. Corvo saw a pair of feet laid flat out. He couldn't see a face from his position, but he recognised the uniform of an Overseer. At the centre, stood another Overseer, cranking the handle of the music box strapped to his chest. The air around it almost rippled with the disturbance caused. _Looking _at the box, Corvo could already feel discomfort, as if his strength were draining for him. He felt, rather than saw, the brand on his left hand stutter, attempting to resist, but failing. Corvo wasn't even in _front _of the device, not like Garrett was.

Garrett was kneeling in the middle of the hall, one hand clutched to the right side of his face. Corvo realised that he'd left his mask in Esma Boyle's room. He wondered if it was intentional, as he also saw Garrett's bow was back in its proper place on his back. Better to actually look like the masked miscreant than someone attempting to be a copy, Corvo supposed. Right now, however, he was worried. The Overseer device was working against Garrett, and Corvo could _feel _its influence from his position near the stairwell, where the Wall of Light hummed with energy. His head pounded, and he was having trouble standing up straight. He could only imagine what Garrett must be experiencing, directly within range of the device. Corvo knew he wouldn't be able to help without causing a lot of mess, something he didn't want to do with men simply doing their jobs. There was also no telling what would happen if he couldn't disrupt the Overseer's device somehow.

"Drop the weapon, hagfish," one of the guards said. "We'll go easy on you if you do."

Corvo saw that Garrett was indeed holding a weapon – his Claw – but he didn't seem to be in a fit state to use it. With some effort, he looked up, through the crowd of guards, and Corvo saw Garrett's gaze come to rest on him. At that point, his eyes roved back to the Overseer looming over him. Although he appeared to still be in pain, he lowered his hands, bringing them down to the floor, eyes still fixed on the Overseer.

"Sorry gentlemen," Garrett ground out, apparently with some effort. "But I've got places to be."

Somehow, and Corvo didn't know how, Garrett stood, forcing himself upright. In the same movement, he thrust his arm forward, embedding the Claw deep within the metalwork of the Overseer's music box. Instantly the unsettling sound of the device halted, and was instead replaced with a clanging and shrieking of metal upon metal. Garrett reeled backwards, withdrawing the weapon and dealing the Overseer a swift kick to the groin, putting him out of action, while at the same time stumbling against the door. Corvo got the message. As soon as he saw Garrett's hand turn on the handle, he blinked to the thief's side, and together they managed to slam the door shut before any of the guards made it outside.

"Was that Overseer covered in _jelly?" _Corvo asked, as muffled thumps echoed on the other side of the door. He was _sure _he'd seen the Overseer with a definite green tinge to his mask.

"There was a mishap at the food table," Garrett said, words quiet and slow to come, one hand pressed to his right eye again. Corvo realised the device must have taken a great toll on him, especially considering he'd then been able to resist it.

"Come on," Corvo told him, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him from the door. "Let's go."

They sprinted down into the gardens, across to where the body of Lord Shaw still lay, along with the unfired pistol. Acting on instinct, Corvo took Garrett's arm, and blinked, sending them high above the wall. The pair had a momentary sensation of falling from a great height, before Corvo blinked a second time in succession, bringing them down to the canal side. Garrett's knees buckled slightly with the landing, but he remained upright.

"That was different," he commented, before his eyes fell on the canal. Corvo followed his gaze, to where the three tallboys now patrolled. He bit back a curse.

"We'll move fast. Samuel's probably moved the boat further down the canal," he reasoned, the thief nodding his agreement.

In theory, Corvo supposed the tallboy would be too interested in what was _in _the canal instead of on the opposite bank. But, at that point, a loud commotion arose from the garden of the Boyle Estate as the Watch managed to find its way out. The pair froze as the high-powered beam emitted by the tallboy found them both.

At that point Corvo acted on instinct, bringing his left hand up and _pulling. _Somehow, and he didn't know how, it had its intended effect – the world slowed to a halt. Hoping the thief wouldn't mind too much (time _was _of the essence, after all), Corvo hoisted Garrett onto his shoulder, before transporting them across the canal; a gap he wasn't sure if they would cross without ending up in the water. Thankfully, they did. As the roaring in Corvo's ears got louder, the whispers more insistent, he moved them a second time, past the canal gate, and then leaping into Samuel's boat. As they fell through the air, the world righted itself again, and Corvo then had the jarring sensation of both him and Garrett hitting the boat, almost capsizing it.

Garrett seemed to recover from the shock of being on one side of the canal in one moment to in a boat the next, but he made somewhat of a frantic scramble to actually seat himself. Samuel was surprised too, but he held his tongue as Corvo gripped the side of the boat, his head attempting to right itself again. The sounds of the guards now mingled with the one on the tallboy screaming he'd seen a ghost.

"This party was terrible," Garrett summarised, leaning his head against the wood panelling of the boat as Samuel backed them up the canal. He closed his eyes, clearly exhausted from his previous exertions.

"It was going well until you threw jelly on an Overseer," Corvo replied, removing his mask to rub his own eyes. Apparently using his powers in rapid succession wasn't good for his spirit, or whatever it was that powered them.

Garrett snorted. "Then you probably won't like the bit where I leapt off the second floor balcony onto the Overseer in the entrance way. The jelly was collateral damage."

"Sounds like you boys enjoyed your evening," Samuel commented as they reached the open expanse of the Wrenhaven once more.

"Someone did," Corvo said, looking out onto the river, mind dwelling on another boat that would be crossing it tonight.

* * *

(*) A picture of Garrett's mask for the Boyle Party can be found here.

_**A/N: Apologies for a late chapter. I went to Bristol to meet up with internet friends for a weekend and then for the entire week after that I watched the entirety of Grimm. You know how these things go.  
**__**Anyway, here we get the party-crashers extraordinaire!**_  
_**If you want a picture of Garrett's mask, look for the bottom of the document, I've provided a link.**_  
_**My thanks for this chapter go to Lark (tumblr user cometoruin, known on AO3 as jacknall), and lorca-the-great (known as the same on tumblr and AO3).**_  
_**A further shoutout to tumblr user arken-stones who asked me on the status of this chapter, which then prompted me to finish it! You know how it goes, you don't write for a week, its then difficult to actually go and do it.**_

_**I'm going to say it now, because I don't know when I'll next update, but on the 29/09 term starts at my university again, so after that I don't know how often I'll be able to update. Hopefully it won't impact too much, at least, not at the start of term, if I'm quick about my updates and don't procrastinate it. We'll see.**_

_**Credit for Garrett's backstory (at least, the murdered parents bit) goes to lorca-the-great, you should totally check out their fic "Shadow Borne", which is that story. As for Garrett's non-revenge bit, that's all me.**_

_**I think that's all, if you have any questions about the fic at all, please feel free to ask! As ever, comments etc. are powerful soul food.**_


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